Be One With Russia
by MadSockMonkey
Summary: Be one with Russia. Ivan would often say that to the countries, but they never thought much about it.  All across the countries people have been getting deadly sick and as a result to this illness, the nations have become weaker due to their population..
1. Chapter 1

_**Be**__** one with **__**Russia**_

Be one with Russia. Ivan would often say that to the countries, but they never thought much about it. Even when Toris, Eduard and Raivis gained their freedom he often came to the trio, telling them to return and be one with him. Most countries just shrug it aside and never pay any attention to what Ivan was talking about; they flat out refuse to be controlled by Ivan. This wouldn't do it. No longer will Ivan give them in a choice in the matter. Too long he has "asked" them to become one with him and they refuse. Everyone will have no choice, but to be one with Russia.

All across the countries people have been getting deadly sick and as a result to this illness, the nations have become weaker due to their population dropping dramatically. There were few nations that didn't get this strange illness. Ivan was using chemical warfare and he'd continue until the countries agreed to give him what he wanted. Ivan didn't wait for all countries to feel the effects. He went around telling everyone right away what he'd done and the only thing to do to stop it would be to join him and make their land Russian land.

Feliciano, with his white flag, was the first to surrender to Ivan. Ludwig was struck too hard by the chemical warfare, and he wasn't able to keep the Italian from surrendering. The German was hit hard for a reason, Ivan knew that Feliciano would give up if Ludwig wasn't there to stop him and that's just what happened. Ludwig has been struggling with his life ever since the hit, he's very close to death since his population is down to only 400 people now. Gilbert has been extremely worried about his brother, refusing to leave his side. Since Gilbert doesn't have a Nation anymore, he hasn't been harmed from the blast. Lovino had no choice, but to give up as well since his brother already did.

Kiku was nearly killed from the powerful blast that hit Tokyo and if it wasn't for Alfred stepping in right away, he probably wouldn't have made it. Kiku's population was cut in half. Yao wasn't struck at all and some believe that it's because Ivan believes he'll join Russia on his own. With Yao not affected by it, he was quick to go to Kiku's side.

Arthur was only beginning to feel the effects. The population of England had yet to drop, but more people were dying each day.

Alfred was struck the hardest of all the nations due to his strength. Although the blast killed most of his people, he was able to pull through. He refused to give his land to Ivan and would continue to do so. Ivan knew that Alfred would be difficult, but that's why he has more focus on the American than any other Nation.

Francis wasn't as strong and although the blast was minor, he still was suffering from it.

Young Peter was also among the injured and his blast was the smallest out of the other Nations. Ivan didn't hit him hard enough to kill him, he wanted his Nation just like he wants everyone else's. Sadly though, the blast wasn't as weak as Ivan wanted. Peter was clinging to life, his Nation half gone.

What about Matthew?

The country that everyone seems to forget about?

Well, Ivan didn't forget about him this time and he planned to use him to an advantage. Matthew was forced from his home without Alfred knowing and put through torture after torture until finally, he gave up his land to the Russian.

As for Ivan's sisters, Natalya and Katyusha, he didn't attack their country just as he avoided attacking Yao's. It was a little difficult to get Katyusha to join him again, but she soon caved and joined the Russian Federation.

Everyone else was suffering in some way and Ivan was using all weaknesses to his advantage. He plans to take over the world in three months or less.

Since Feliciano surrendered right away, he was only hit with a minor dose and not the full on attack like the others. He was quickly recovering. Shortly after Feliciano surrendered the three Baltic's had to as well. Toris was hit the hardest out of the two, nearly losing his life in the process. If it wasn't for the fact he surrendered the next day, he might not be here. Eduard was hit the second worse and Raivis was only given a minor attack. All of them rejoined with Russia without a day apart from each other. They weren't the only one's though, Peter joined as well. He was dying and there was nothing that Arthur could do for him. As painful as it was for Arthur to let him surrender, he had no choice. It was either have Peter surrender or lose him. Arthur made a promise to him that everything was going to be okay. Although he's trying to heal, he's close to death. Matthew was the newest member to join. He's not only bruised and sore, but close to death just like Peter and Toris.

The year is **3000. **

This is **WW Russia**.

**Russia against the world.**

_Chapter 1_

_When the **tears** fall away  
>And there's no <strong>conversation <strong>  
>There's nothing left to <strong>break <strong>  
>That's not already <strong>broken<strong>  
>You're <strong>staring<strong> into space  
>And every inch of <strong>silence<strong>  
>Been standing here for <strong>days<strong>, and **days **_

_-Said it All, Take That_

_Date: December 21st, 3000  
>Time: 2:30PM<br>Location: Berlin, Germany, Ludwig's house_

Crimson eyes were locked unblinkingly on the grey, withered remains of the field just beyond the window they gazed out of. A pale hand pressed lightly against the glass just under the small misshapen circle of fog that shrunk and grew with each breath Gilbert took. The purple lines under his eyes were easily visible against his pale skin, making it obvious that he hadn't slept all night. His lips were drawn in a thin frown, and the only movement from his figure was the faint rise and fall of his chest. He simply couldn't bring himself to turn around, to cast his gaze upon the king-sized bed, the sheets stained in ugly, red blotches, to the cold, motionless figure that was mostly hidden underneath them. It was at times like this that he barely felt like the older brother, much the opposite, in fact.

"Gilbert..."

Prussia winced. It wasn't often that he heard that tone, much less from Ludwig, of all people. His voice had been reduced to some form of low rasp that was probably as painful to create as it was to hear. Then again, he'd never known his brother to be bedridden, as he was. Forcing a smile that turned out more like a grimace, he glanced over his shoulder, finally allowing himself to blink, and immediately regretted it. He could close his eyes and see his brother as he wanted him to be. His blonde hair, slicked back, without as much as a strand out of place would be there. As would his crisp, newly laundered uniform, and the healthy glow of his naturally pale skin. Behind his eyelids, the real Ludwig would be there, so three-dimensional and realistic that he could almost convince himself that it was he who stood before him, rather than the shell of his brother who was lying in bed, virtually helpless.

With his eyes open, Germany was different. Altered. The West who was propped up in bed had skin that was a blotched patchwork of grey, white and yellow. His face was slightly hollowed out, as far as he could see, and he dared not look into those steel blue eyes.

"Hey, West," The grin widened slightly, but was still obviously forced. "You hungry? I can go get some wurst? And beer, want a six-pack of Pilsner? Kesesesesese! Of course you do! I'll go get it." Whatever he was saying wasn't even processing; it probably didn't even make any sense. Moat uncharacteristic, though to be honest, most of what he did at the moment was uncharacteristic. He was used to solving problems with action and there he was, staring at someone who was probably in pain, knowing that he couldn't do a damn about it. He was absolutely helpless, and Prussia didn't 'do' helpless very well.

"I don't want-"

Already knowing what the response would be, Gilbert didn't even bother to listen, interrupting Ludwig mid-sentence for the hundredth time that day. "Come on! The wurst is especially awesome, and you've gotta eat _something!_ What's wrong with you?" As soon as he'd asked it, he realised that what he'd said sounded wrong. Harsh. Unfeeling, even. He was still struggling to understand how someone who was only a few years younger than himself, who went to the gym, who ate relatively healthily, who had never smoked...well not excessively, who drank as much as he did had woken up one day to find there was a clock ticking over his head; discovered he was one step closer to knowing when he'd meet his maker than he was. He'd been wrestling with this thought since he'd first found him in this state. Despite the obvious fact that Ludwig was virtually at death's door, Gilbert downright refused to accept that he'd just die and leave him to fend for himself.

Sighing, Prussia turned to face his brother fully, his grin faltering slightly. For once, he found himself unwilling to add another snappy response, or annoying (bordering on offensive) comment. Why Ludwig's current appearance surprised him every time he cast his gaze upon him was unknown to him. He would have thought that he was used to it by now,

Lapsing into an unusual silence, he just stood there and looked at him, an unfathomable expression plastered across his features, the grin abandoned completely. There wasn't really much to say, and there was no way that he was leaving the room, as the previous time he'd returned to find Ludwig attempting to do something or another, out of bed. He'd spent the next few minutes heaving and shivering, eventually coughing up a fair amount of his own blood, which, frankly, had completely terrified him.

Not that he'd admit it.

Seeing his brother in such a state on a regular basis was enough to keep him from the virtue that was taken with little appreciation by so many; a sweet, uninterrupted sleep that wasn't haunted by the image of your only relative's cold, motionless corpse mangled and twisted into a grotesque form lying in a heap at the foot of a flight of stone stairs, leading down into the overwhelming darkness, cold chains rattling ominously in the corner, the fear that lingered amid the horrors, the memories of a thousand tortures lingering in the mind, threatening to take you, to force you to succumb to the madness that hung like a contagious disease...

Gilbert bolted upright from his uncomfortable position on the makeshift bed, his body soaked with sweat, clutching the sheets with rigid, tense hands, so hard that his knuckles were as white as his hair as though it were the only thing keeping him from the fine threads of reality. For mere second he sat, mostly unmoving, his breathing panicked, coming in sharp wheezes, blood red eyes stinging as though he'd just been punched. It was a dream. _A dream. _The fact that it had seemed so real was irrelevant; it wouldn't happen in reality, it _couldn't._ And reality was everything. There was no point in living in the past, although at the same time he could never forget such horrors. If he were to glance up at the bed, ignoring the bloodstains, he'd catch a glimpse of the ghost-like features of his brother, barely but still clinging to what little life he had left, breathing in a harsh, unnatural manner that he could no nothing to prevent. No matter what else in the world changed, Ludwig would always be there, despite the odds. This had been true for so long that it terrified Gilbert to think of a world in which it wasn't. Without his brother.

With little or no hesitation, Gilbert shot up off the floor, looming over Ludwig like a shadow, crimson eyes wide with terror, mostly hidden by the filthy platinum mop that had become his hair. The terror that still continued to well up inside him, almost to bursting point, was too much for him to bear at that moment as he stared intently, expectantly, at the hollowed out, pale face as though willing desperately for it to show a sign of life. He had to prove to himself that Ludwig had not been unfairly taken from him as he slept, over the past couple of hours. It had been the first time he'd slept in days, possibly weeks, for so long and for the few seconds of tension that seemed to last a lifetime, Gilbert seriously regretted caving in to his brother's wish to allow himself to sleep.

He _would_ be alive.

Unable to stand the unbearable tension for much longer, Gilbert resisted the urge to lightly poke the hopefully slumbering figure, in fear that the slight nudge would send him into the cold, beckoning clutches of Death. As soon as he thought it, Gilbert knew that he was being stupid, childish even. As Ludwig would have said, it wasn't logically possible for such an event to occur, it just wouldn't happen. Still, Gilbert felt the need to ensure that Ludwig hadn't left him. Despite his strength, he knew that his brother was the only reason that he had a home, despite the fact that he constantly stated to anybody who'd listen that Ludwig "lived in his upstairs," rather than himself living in the basement of his younger brother's house.

"Mhmmm?" Ludwig rolled laboriously onto his side in his slumber as though it took half of his energy just to do so, all the while his brother held his breath in terrified anticipation as Ludwig slumped back into his original position, face contorted in pain, barely noting the fact that his brother was virtually leaning over him.

(OK! That's Chapter 1 of my first ever fanfic done by mee! Hope you liked, and plese **rate and review! ****You're opinion means a lot to us!** :D

I'll update it once a week, or more if I have time, and the first few chapters will be about each character, to set the mood! I have this whole thing planned out, and...

**..AWESOME!)**


	2. An Awesome Phone Conversation

_Date: December 23rd, 3000  
>Time: 1:45AM<br>Location: Berlin, Germany, Ludwig's house/ Budapest, Hungary, Elizabeta's house_

((Text conversation between Hungary and Prussia. The first is a message on Hungary's answer machine. Please don't think of this as Chapter 2! It's like, something in the middle of Chapters 1 and 2, and will be mentioned in Chapter 2))

*Prussia finds himself to be rather bored as he sits beside Ludwig, who sleeping, and so decides to bother Hungary, a childhood friend. Well, that's his **excuse**, anyway... *

Voicemail

_"Hallo there if you're getting this then I'm not able to pick up or probably ignoring you. And Prussia, if this is you then you'd better hang up now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you."_

Prussia

"_Liz! Guess who? It's the awesome me! There's something wrong with your voicemail message, you should sort it out. Anyway, dropped by to say hi. How's Austria these days? Still as girlish as ever? I'm sure you see a lot of each other. _

_I don't get how you could miss a call from someone like me, but you're probably busy...doing something... _

_Did I mention that I'm awesome?"_

_Date: December 24th, 3000  
>Time: 7:33PM<br>Location: Berlin, Germany, Ludwig's house/ Budapest, Hungary, Elizabeta's house_

Hungary

"_What was the purpose of calling me, Gilbert? Just to leave a rambling voicemail? And just so you know, I didn't pick up because I went out and left my phone at home."_

Prussia

"_Pretty much, yeah. What was the purpose of texting me, Elizabeta? Just to leave a moaning text? _

_And just so YOU know, I didn't reply for a day because I have better things to do with my awesome life than text people constantly. I'm not Feliks."_

Hungary

"_Of course, Gil. You have tons of better things to do than text. The intent of my message is none of your concern. It's strange, but I haven't seen you in a long time. Not that I really care, but are you planning something, or just busy like you said?"_

Prussia

"_I'm busy. That ass Ivan made sure of that. _

_But of course you don't care, Liz. The feeling's mutual. Though if you don't care, why'd you wanna know? I mean, you wouldn't ask unless you did care. I haven't seen Roderich in a while, but you don't see me saying that to him." _

Hungary

"_As if. I just need to make sure that you're not getting into any trouble or causing any trouble for anyone. I've been quite busy myself, though. Ivan's really asking for it."_

Prussia

"_Yes, mother. What do you take me for? I'm not impulsive, Liz. And even somebody as awesome as I can't be in two places at once. And don't get me started on Ivan. Bastard doesn't know what he's gotten himself into. Not that I really care, but your death would be inconvenient. So, you weren't hit that badly, right?"_

Hungary

"_You just keep telling yourself that. We've got to keep an eye on you sometimes. What Ivan did... Well of course I was hit pretty bad, has it really been that long since we've seen each other, or do you just not remember?"_

Prussia

"_I don't know. I can't remember, so it's probably been a little while. But I don't think it's been that long... _

_I haven't been keeping track of time lately, so it might've been. I only know the day of the week because it's on my phone. But what's all this about 'keeping an eye on me?' What do you think I'm going to do? Well anyway, what's going on outside of Germany? Spending every day with dear old Roddy as though it's your last, I'll bet. I've asked a lot of questions, but I guess I'm just that awesome."_

Hungary

"_Hmm, I guess now a days time isn't really the first thing on our minds. Well Gil, it's not that I think you're going to do anything; you've just always done stuff, so I sort of expect you to do something. Outside of Germany things aren't all that good, I've only seen a few of the others myself, some of them look horrible, but I'm pretty sure you've known that. Have you seen any of the others yourself? No, I haven't even seen "Roddy" in such a long time; I'm pretty much busy all the time so I don't have too much time to spend with others. Why do you want to know? Oh and how's Ludwig doing by the way?"_

Prussia

"_Not too good, obviously. I don't really want to talk about it, Liz. Why don't you come and see for yourself? _

_I haven't seen anyone recently. But I'm surprised to hear that about Roderich. Thought two of you would've been inseparable or something."_

Hungary

"_Oh? Is that an invitation over? I really would like to come and check up on the two of you, and I do have a bit of free time right now if you guys really aren't that busy, but if not then that's fine. Roderich and I can be separated, and I know that right now getting our lives back together is way more important than hanging around catching up. Besides it's not like I live with Roderich anymore and we're nothing than close friends now."_

Prussia

"_Suure. I don't know who you think you're kidding, but whatever. And I guess you could interpret it that way. So, I can probably find a spare minute in my events planner. Which is full, by the way. Completely. I mean, its overflowing... Everyone wants to talk to Prussia, being awesome, handsome, having a great sense of humour and not to mention that I work out constantly. But yeah, I guess I'm so awesome that I can slot you in. By the way, you've just proven yourself wrong. You wouldn't be so bothered about not seeing me if you didn't care. So once again, my awesomeness has proven to be superior to you're...not awesome self. But still, that's ok, because you're still the manliest person I know, not including my awesome self, as you even said yourself back then._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Yeah, so Chapter 2 coming soon! Geez, I wonder who it could possibly be about... <em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Date: December 28th, 3000  
>Time: 12:50am<br>Location: Budapest, Hungary, Elizaveta's house_

_If everyone __**cared **__and nobody__** cried**__  
>If everyone<em>_** loved**__ and nobody __**lied**__  
>If everyone <em>_**shared**__ and swallowed their __**pride**__  
>Then we'd see the day when nobody <em>_**died**_

I'm singing, "Amen I,

**I'm alive.**"

_**-**__If Everyone Cared, Nickelback_

Elizaveta had awoken that morning, letting out a small groan as she sat up with great difficulty, prising her sleep-encrusted eyes open, the morning sunlight filtering through the blinds, and momentarily she cringed away from it, momentarily mystified by the brightness of her bedroom light, pulling the pillow over her head in a vain attempt to escape the underlying dull pain that surged through her aching body. She felt as though every country in the world had used her for target practice, and then dumped her bloodied body in a vat of boiling oil, or rather, what she imagined it would feel like. If she was honest with herself, she just didn't feel all to up to getting out of bed at the moment, and if Roderich had been there to see her in such a state, there was no doubt in her mind that he'd forbid her to leave the confines of the bed.

Fighting the virtually uncontrollable urge to give in to the temptation to bury her face in the pillow and ignore the roads stained with red, or the mass graves, filled to bursting point with the mangled corpses of strangers, that lay beyond the window, and undoubtedly on the other side of the borders that surrounded Hungary, just for one day she could escape the relentless suffering of the world, forget the frankly terrifying fact that the innocent lives of millions were at the mercy of the bloodthirsty, tyrannical Russia, though a part of her knew this to be impossible. As much as she would love to be rid of the trauma and the constant worry that Roderich or Ludwig or even _Gilbert _would be the next to fall. It was empty and quiet in her house now, and she missed having other nations come to visit and sit with her, or even to just to bother her. She really wished that someone, anyone, would come. She would even welcome in France or Gilbert, or both, just anything to break the silence. What was the world coming to?

Glancing over at the bedside table, her emerald green eyes scanned the surface, taking several seconds to acknowledge her mobile phone, the 'message' icon illuminated and casting a faint glow upon the wooden surface. Elizaveta's now racing mind recalled something about having a meeting that morning with the Rebellion, and didn't know if she would even go this time since she wasn't feeling well. Hell, she felt as though she was heavily hung-over, but another part of her just told her to get up and that she could do it. Elizaveta did eventually swing herself out of bed, picking up her mobile phone as she went, automatically checking through her messages, well, message since the only thing she had received was from Gilbert, and though she hated to admit it, the only reason that she took the slightest ounce of interest in it was due to Ludwig's current physical state. She was late to the meeting, really late.

Elizaveta let out a sigh, throwing her phone onto her bed as she went to pick out something to wear. The mere thought of choosing a piece of clothing for some unknown reason again directed her thoughts towards the albino, despite her better judgement, and their previous face-to-face encounter playing through her mind, despite the fact that she'd done her best to act as though it had never happened. It had been such a long time since he'd visited, months even, though even now his obnoxious tones replayed constantly in the back of her mind, which did nothing to help her mood. Apparently, Gilbert had the power to frustrate those around him without even having to be present.

_Elizaveta pulled out a CD and placed it in the portable CD player she had bought from a trip to Japan's house and put the headphones over her ears. Light, beautiful classical music played, but it just wasn't like Rod's playing. Gilbert would've destroyed the disk if he'd been present, though thankfully, he was causing havoc elsewhere that day, most likely with Francis and Antonio. Those three were virtually inseparable these days. She pulled the headphones off of her head, and fumbled with the various buttons and dials until the CD player ejected "Beethoven's Symphony No. 7," before inserting another, this one brightly coloured and bearing the name "Green Day" in graffiti-style lettering. This particular CD had been given to her by Alfred, and though she had never been too fond of rock music, Alfred had said she would like one particular song on it over all of the rest. She immediately selected the track that he had specified which caught her by surprise as her ears were automatically blasted with the electric guitar chords of "She's a Rebel." A slight smile playing across her lips, the music died instantly as she pulled the headphones off, turning down the volume letting and out a small sigh. He just couldn't help himself sometimes._

_She put the headphones back on and listened to the song all the way through and laughed a little, she would never understand Alfred, but he was right about one thing. She had enjoyed that song over all of the others. Hungary set the CD player down on the table before her and sat there for a while enjoying a nice moment of silence before her cell phone went off with a loud shrill ring. She jumped and quickly checked to see who it was; a text from Ludwig and one from Roderich. Liz went and looked at the text from Ludwig; ranting on about how "If that ungrateful idiot turned up on her doorstep not to send him back home, because he wasn't welcome." Sighing in slight desperation, she discarded the message and selected Roderich's. So Gilbert would turn up to drive her to the verge of insanity after all, and this time, or so she assumed, Ludwig wouldn't be around to collect him when he emptied the liqueur cabinet. _

_Oh joy. _

_Despite the situation, she couldn't suppress a slight chuckle at the thought of what exactly the albino had done to aggravate his usually level-headed brother quite this much as she skimmed through Rod's lengthy text. Her face went blank for a second before she let out a dark chuckle and a grin spread across her face as she sent back a" be over there soon," and went straight to her kitchen to seize a frying pan before marching out the door. _

_Gilbert just never learned when to keep his nose out of things. _

_Elizaveta snuck up right behind the former nation, who had decided to see if Roderich's ahoge was anything like Veneziano or Romano's, and was currently in the process of pulling on it and not getting much of nothing but an annoyed gaze and a yelp every once in a while if he yanked to hard. She let out a chuckle from behind him, frying pan raised, and the alcoholic layabout froze momentarily, releasing his grip on Roderich's hair and looking back, almost wishing he hadn't. Almost, but not quite. _

_She stood right there, frying pan raised, before slamming it with surprising force, considering her physique, right into his face before beating him with it continuously in the side until she felt like he had enough. She could never quite understand why Gilbert was perfectly happy to pick a fight with absolutely anybody, and due to his strength rarely lost, although with her he acted as though he was completely helpless. He didn't even seem to realise that it was completely his choice to be beaten continuously with her frying pan; he could've easily avoided it. _

_Elizaveta smiled as she put the pan away, making sure to step on her childhood friend as she walked over to Roderich, resuming her usual position by his side as he sat at the piano. _

_Roderich sighed a little, "Finally, now I can get back to composing that one piece I've been working on." _

"_May I stay and listen?" Elizaveta asked, her face brightening at the mention of Austria composing something. His music never ceased to soothe her thoughts._

"_Ja, I'm almost done with it, actually." He nodded once, sending a very brief smile back before he set back to playing the soft notes, the two completely ignoring the apparently passed out albino on the floor. _

_Gilbert, however, had other intentions. Ignoring the searing pain in his left side and temple, he pushed against the floral carpeted floor, dragging himself along across the length of the room as not to draw too much attention to himself. Usually, being quiet was next to impossible for the German, although on occasion he found himself in a situation such as this one, in which much could be achieved by biding his time and all that crap that Arthur constantly went on about at the mention of MI6, or any sort of secret organisation. _

_She loved days like these, where they were peaceful and she got to spend them listening to her former lover's beautiful compositions, and despite all of its faults the world seemed to be a much better place with him at her side, when all that mattered was the endless stream of soft and perfectly formed notes, the sound of Rod's breathing, the rise and fall of his chest as his hands skimmed masterfully across the keys, forming perfect chords with every movement..._

_She could almost believe that she was falling for him again..._

_At that moment, the beautiful composition was shattered by an enraged squeal, Liz's voice so high that it almost sounded as though she was trying to sing soprano as she attempted to snatched her skirt away and glared into the slightly startled crimson eyes of the apparently perverted albino from where he half sat-half stood with one hand on her skirt and the other gripping the back of the piano stool, inches from her backside as he used them to push himself upright, though currently frozen in a squatting position, still clutching her skirts as though his life depended on it. _

"_WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"_

Elizaveta shook her head, suddenly paying her complete and utter attention to tending to any bandages that she may have needed, in an almost vain attempt to force the recollection from her mind, and cringing ever so slightly as she dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth. Honestly, she knew that though Gil was a lot of things, though a pervert was not one of them. Technically. Well, if you _thought_ about it... He'd act as though he could get away with anything, and there was no denying that he had done a whole lot of inappropriate things in the past few weeks alone, his criminal record proved that, though he'd never have the guts to continue after the screams erupted, or when he got to the point where he could easily have raped somebody. And there was no doubt by his change of attitude in such situations that he somewhat regretted his actions, although few others seemed to notice when he showed weakness. Well, generally speaking.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted by the shrill tones of her mobile phone, this time however playing the first verse of "American Idiot" so loud that she half expected to find Green Day standing behind her screaming in her face, which was cut short as she grabbed the device and went to hold it to her ear, until an equally load "DUUUDE!" erupted from it, still ringing in her eardrums as Alfred continued to yell down the phone line, instantly knocking any tiredness that remained from her. As he ranted on about something or another, barely pausing for breath and continuing to deafen her as he "spoke," it took a moment or two to comprehend exactly what he was saying due to the commotion at the other end of the line, and another to acknowledge the fact that he wasn't yelling as he usually did. This time he could obviously barely conceal his complete rage, every word seemingly verbally attacking her as he continued his tirade. Honestly, it scared the crap out of her, hearing his so enraged as he currently was, considering his usual ignorant, excitable self, despite the fact that his anger was clearly not aimed at her.

From what little of his speech that Elizaveta could comprehend, the key words "Mattie," "meeting's cancelled" and "kick Ivan's fucking ass" stood out like a sore thumb.

Without much hesitation, Elizabeta grabbed her coat as she rushed through the house and spoke a few pointless words of comfort, which were left unheard by Alfred due to his continuation of his yelling, which appeared to change from time to time to yelling at whoever else was at the other end of the line, as she turned and headed to the front door, not even pausing to lock the door to the house properly, all else forgotten but to get a last minute flight to Washington DC, her face a mask of confusion and worry.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

:D Now's where things start heating up! You can expect a lot of violence, cliff-hangers, major plot twists, a HUGE surprise, and...

A little romance...

I know this chapter wasn't my best work, but I promise from here on, it's gonna be nothing but awesome!


	4. Chapter 4

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 9:45AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

_Don't __**judge**__ a thing until you know what's__** inside**__ it  
>Don't push <em>_**me**__  
>I'll <em>_**fight**__ it  
><em>_**Never**__ gonna __**give in**__  
><em>_**Never**__ gonna __**give it up**__, no  
>If you can't catch a <em>_**wave**__ then you're never gonna __**ride it**__  
><em>  
>You can't take <strong>me<strong>  
><strong>I'm free<strong>_  
><em>

_-__You Can't Take Me, Bryan Adams_

Since Ivan had launched the attack that had proved fatal to half of the USA's population, Alfred was finding it increasingly difficult to stay strong despite the circumstances, what with the loss of his superhuman strength due to the virus which was still claiming its victims with no way to prevent it. He knew that it was probably only a matter of time before he fell along with his people, and was too ill to lead the Rebellion, though until then he'd persevere and continue to lead and fight to the bitter end, because, to put it simply, that is what a hero does. His people needed a strong leader in dark times, as well as the other nations, and he was not at all willing to let them down. The _last_ thing that he was going to do was allow Ivan to win. He figured that as long as he was breathing he'd fight. There was too much to lose and he wasn't going to let that happen. No matter what, Ivan was going to lose this war. Just like he lost the Cold War.

At almost ten o'clock in the morning he was up and raring to go or as much as he would ever be, considering the situation, and he'd surprisingly managed to actually plan something in advance and had just finished slaving away in the sweltering heat of the kitchen, as he cooked the frozen BBQ chips and chicken wings from the supermarket. Good old home-style cooking, all ready with peanuts, milkshakes, KFC Bargain Buckets and of course ham and cheese slices, for the rebellion group who'd be arriving shortly. Just looking at the feast was enough to make his stomach churn. On the kitchen table Alfred had placed different kinds of soda: Dr. Pepper, Coke, Pepsi and Seven Up, so much that you could barely see the tabletop. He even went out of his way to buy some Earl Grey tea for Arthur, but he didn't know how to make it so that would be left to him. The smell of coffee was strong within the house since Alfred brewed it just in case anyone wanted a wakeup call; after all, most of them were covering a large distance on the plane ride.

Come to think of it, hadn't somebody asked him to set up a video chat conversation so that they could be a part of the meeting, as well?

Alfred hurriedly rummaged through his cupboards, leaving doors open and a few worthless souvenirs and general rubbish that he'd hoarded over the years in his haste, until he emerged with an oversized Apple Mac, and logged onto Skype. Honestly, was there something this baby _couldn't_ do?

After a few minutes, the dishevelled, ungroomed face of Gilbert Beilschmidt popped up on the screen, an unfathomable expression on his face, which in itself was unusual for the former nation. "Hey dude, "was all that Alfred said, considering that they'd never really known one another, and it was pointless to ask 'how he was doing,' as he clearly looked awful, what with his bloodshot eyes rimmed with purple from a clear lack of sleep, and the platinum blond hair that framed his pale face had been allowed to become a ragged mess, and it was clear that he hadn't eaten in a while, though why not Alfred had no idea. Germany wasn't suffering from food shortages. Despite his irritating, narcissistic personality, he had to hand it to him; Gilbert would do anything for those he cared for, which was proven by his insistence that Ludwig not attend the meeting in person, though that didn't mean that he couldn't keep track of what was going on, though apparently his older brother had decided that he was too weak to even speak on Skype. "Hi. What's going on?" the other asked, getting straight to the point, for once not including some form of pointless comment about himself, and for them most part not acting at all as he usually did. He seemed to only be slightly interested in what Alfred had to day, his eyes not really focusing on anything in particular, as though he had something else on his mind.

"Waiting for people to arrive, dude. I'm gonna leave you online, and put the laptop on the coffee table, ok?"

"...Ok."

* * *

><p>"Okay, dude, totally done."<p>

Alfred smiled over at Tony. His face was still covered in slowly fading bruises, and he knew if there was _another_ attack on his country, they would return. He had stopped bleeding weeks previously, though he'd had terrible nosebleeds brought on by the attack at the time. Looking over at his flat screen TV he turned it onto the news, just to hear the updates of what was happening, and he knew it wasn't going to be good. Why would it? Looking at the news these days was like watching a close friend die before your eyes.

_**"...And those who are suffering from the affects of the virus swarm the hospitals. Space is very limited, rooms are becoming filled quickly and there has been talk of a quarantine centre being set up by the Red Cross. We just got word that the virus is airborne. Anyone who may be suffering is to go to the hospital immediately, and if the hospital is packed either find another or wait for an available room. Now to the weather. It's-"**_Alfred had heard enough. He already knew about the weather anyway. It was winter, meaning that it was cold. You'd have to be an idiot not to know that.

Suddenly, the Star-Spangled Banner began to play, catching him slightly by surprise, and he quickly took out his phone. It seemed like someone had replied to his text about the meeting. Arthur. Of course _he'd _be the first to respond.

_About bloody time you idiot. I will be there._

Not the best text message he could received, but he shrugged it off and returned the phone to his jacket pocket.

It was just about time and he was relieved. They had a lot to go over and Alfred had a lot of ideas. He'd be a great help as usual, though also eager to push his weight around, as usual. This meeting had been a last minute call, him being his usual unorganised self, as somebody on the inside had been feeding through a few well-kept secrets concerning the "welfare of the world," as he'd put it. Apparently, there was a vaccine and Ivan naturally had it in his clutches, of course. That virtually went without saying. There had to be a way to get a hold of it, as it would clearly save the lives of millions worldwide, and that was what the discussion of the meeting was going to be about. Although, Alfred had yet to tell everyone the good news. That was if they haven't heard it already; it was possible that this mysterious figure that appeared to know a great deal about Ivan had told them, then they'd already know about it.

Yet another distraction caught his attention, his thoughts going haywire as a loud, quick and meaningful rap on the door echoed throughout the living room. His natural reaction was to answer the door, though he began to make his way over to it, only to suddenly stop half way there. Alfred's face became pale as he shouted, **"LET YOURSELF IN!"** at the top of his lungs before placing a hand over his mouth, and running as fast as he could into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door. Thankfully, he reached the toilet in time, throwing up the contents of his breakfast. Between coughs and throwing up, he took long intakes of breath, attempting to fight the nausea, though he did so in vain, he realised, as he continued with a dry heave, shaking somewhat violently and clutching the bowl of the toilet for support as he kneeled before it. _Don't come in here, dude. This is…totally…embarrassing._ It didn't matter who was at the door. As long as they didn't come in and see this, Alfred would be fine. No one could see the United States of America like this. It was too embarrassing.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 9:45AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, outside Alfred's house_

Arthur Kirkland was usually fine when it came to air travel, although the recent events tossed all of those usual feelings out of the window. It hadn't taken effect like some of the other nations such as his youngest brother. Peter; now there was a sore spot. Even though he wasn't really a nation at all it had been hard to have to turn him over to Ivan, just to keep the kid from dying. He hadn't seen his older brothers lately either, and he hoped the three were all right."'Ey man, you all right?" he turned back to the cabby, and was transported head first back into the world of reality, not having realized that he was staring off into space, looking at Alfred's house, but not really looking at it. He had forgotten that he needed to pay his fare, as well."Fine, sorry lost in my thoughts." He winced inwardly, hoping he wasn't beginning to sound mental. After a moment, he reached into his coat pocket for his wallet to hand over his fare, giving his money and beginning to cough that horrible dry cough that was as painful as it was to hear. At that, the driver had gone pale and Arthur had quickly shut his door. All of the humans seemed to be afraid of what was going around, and he couldn't blame them. This was worse than World War II and even he himself had seen the aftermath of what happened in Japan. That had been instantaneous, or well, instant with the fire, but this was long lasting and by the feeling of things it would be longer lasting than the effects of a nuclear bomb going off. There was a squealing of tires as the driver took off down the road and Arthur shook his head as he headed up the driveway to his former ward's house and pulled his trench coat tighter around himself. He was in civilian clothing at the moment, but that wasn't an excuse not to dress warmly. The coat covered the fact that he was getting thinner from what was beginning to happen with his people, and he'd lost his appetite weeks ago, mainly due to the fact that whatever he ate had a tendency to come back up again. He looked fine outwardly, but to those who knew him well, there was certain tiredness about him and there was the beginning of dark circles around his eyes. It wasn't quite like the bombings of London in World War I, but things were coming to a close second. At the door he could hear the sounds of a television from within and what sounded like the news, and shook his head. It varied per country though even he knew that it basically all sounded the same. After a short knock, Arthur heard a muffled, **"LET YOURSELF IN!"** from somewhere within, before the sound of faint running footsteps. With a raised eyebrow, he opened the apparently unlocked front door, and saw what looked like Alfred's shoe running towards where he knew the bathroom was. He shook his head before letting himself in and his eyes fell upon the box of Earl Grey tea with a light smile. To be honest, he hadn't thought that Al would remember it, and wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't. Arthur put the kettle on to let the water boil before going over to the bathroom doorway, leaning against the doorframe to make sure that Alfred was all right, which he clearly wasn't, or he wouldn't have been kneeling over the toilet quite like he was. Arthur may put up a front around other nations, but he still considered Alfred a younger brother and cared, naturally. He'd dealt with things like this a few times when he was raising Alfred and Matthew as colonies, all those years ago, and so he knew better than to speak just then, as Al probably wouldn't appreciate him saying anything just at that moment, so he waited.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 9:57AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, outside Alfred's house_

So maybe Russia and China hadn't _always_ gotten along. There had been conflicts, periods of tension; even full-blown violence between them — but there had also been cooperation, he couldn't deny. One could possibly call it a friendship. Admittedly, Yao had always harboured a small inkling of apprehension towards Ivan — maybe even fear? — No matter how cordial their countries' relations were, as Ivan's personality alone had that effect on people in general. He could only guess what his northern neighbour was truly capable of, and at times he would wonder if or when he would finally snap.

But he had never thought Ivan would resort to something like _this_.

Mental images of his siblings' illnesses flashed through Yao's mind for what seemed to be the millionth time. Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong, even Korea... the images of what the virus bombs had done to them refused to leave, a constant memory haunting the back of his mind. Yao doubted they would ever be completely erased from his memory, however long he lived, but still he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head forcefully like a wet dog, hoping that would somehow clear his mind.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.

Groaning, Yao hung his head in his hands and let himself be jolted around in his seat as the taxi drove on. He was just at home taking care of sick nations, and now he was on his way to a meeting where he would inevitably encounter even more sick nations. In a slightly twisted way, it made Yao feel guilty that he wasn't suffering with them.

The taxi slowed to a halt and the driver grunted something in English; presumably that meant they had reached their destination. Yao had to take a few extra seconds to figure out exactly how many strange American bills to pay the driver, but soon he found himself out on the side of the road and standing in front of what he vaguely remembered to be Alfred's house. He had only been there a handful of times, usually for parties and other informal events like that. Having such a serious meeting take place here felt strange, yet here he was standing, dressed in a dull, Western-style jacket and uncomfortably formal pants that felt way too different from his usual baggy ones; in the present environment, it was dangerous to walk around dressed too distinctly, but that didn't make it any less awkward.

It was quiet outside, and Yao's soft black slippers made almost no noise against the pavement as he approached the front door, which made it all the more easier for him to hear Alfred's television and the faint sounds of... retching? As he opened the unlocked door. In any other situation, he would probably have made a comment to Alfred about personal safety and whatnot, though now didn't seem to be the right time for lecturing of any form. Yao frowned and stood in the middle of the living room with nothing but the TV, straining to listen to whatever was happening further within the house, though at the same time he didn't wish to intrude too much, being the guest, over the English babble. He could have sworn that the somewhat odd noises coming from the other room was the sound of someone being sick; it was the exact same noise that he had to hear his siblings make over and over the past few days.

"Wei, America!" Yao called out, though managing to keep his voice low; and hoping whoever else was there could hear him. Why did young people like turn their televisions so loud anyway?

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:02AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, the Bathroom, Alfred's house_

It didn't take too long for Alfred to stop retching, those as he rose, somewhat shakily; there was a terrible taste in his mouth, making a face as he did so. The American flushed the toilet and then washed his hands, making use to clean them thoroughly. Whoever was at the door was probably waiting for him in the living room, anyway. They could wait a few more minutes. He walked over toward the door, turning off the light and turning to see Arthur standing by the door frame. A small gasp escaped him and his pale face began to slowly redden with embarrassment. Arthur would probably understand this, but just _knowing_ that _Arthur_ knew made him ill again, just not enough to throw up and embarrass himself further.

He tried to hide his red cheeks with his hand, only having little success. "Damn." Alfred muttered, his voice muffled due to his hand over his mouth. This was horrible, but if it had to be _somebody_, it would be Arthur and if he was lucky the Briton wouldn't tease him about it. _This totally sucks._

His thoughts were racing with things to say to try to cover it up, but it was clear what happened and although he was greatly embarrassed by it there was really nothing he could say that Arthur wouldn't already know. This was a just another symptom among the nations.

Finally, he pulled his hand away and stared at Arthur, as trying to ignore the happenings of the past few minutes would be best, surely, and now he was focused on Arthur's appearance. He looked terrible. Tired and thin. _I wish I was that thin._ He thought to himself, startled momentarily by his own thought. It was true that he wanted to be thinner, but becoming thin with something like this virus wasn't the way to go.

"**Hey dude. Saw you got my text,"**

He said with a weak smile, trying to make things less awkward between them, or it at least it felt awkward to Alfred. Getting the taste of bile and his breakfast out of his mouth would be great, but for some reason he decided to stay and talk with Arthur first.

Hearing Yao in the other room startled him a little, mainly due to the fact that he hadn't expected anybody to arrive over the course of a few minutes, although at that moment the doorbell rang, marking the arrival of at least a couple more visitors. He _was_ expecting more people, but he didn't think that Yao would come quite that early as Arthur had. Without a word to Arthur he went over to the door, saying a quick "Hi, dude" as he passed one of the few nations that hadn't been struck by the virus, and opened the front door, making a point of the fact that it was unlocked, and giving a weak smile to a few of the many nations that _had_ been affected as Seychelles and France wandered into the house, all of them covered in some form of bruise, bandage or otherwise.

Saying Merry Christmas crossed his mind a couple of times, but he couldn't stand the thought of it. There was nothing "merry" about this Christmas, and so settled for his standard, "Sup, dudes!" He asked, as usual making it sound more like an exclamation, stepping aside so that they could walk into his living room, taking their seats on the sofas that were crowded around the surprisingly large coffee table that you could barely see due to the amount of fast food and drinks that had been unceremoniously shoved onto it. If he was lucky, Yao wouldn't have heard him retching as well as Arthur.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:05AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Yao sighed in slight exasperation at Alfred's once again less-than-formal welcome. "You're still speaking like that, aru?" the disgruntled elder asked, though more as a statement, with the tiniest shadow of disapproval in his tone, although he left it at that; Alfred looked in no condition to receive a lecture about his mannerisms. There were bruises all over his flushed face, and he looked as though he needed a decent meal and a good night's sleep; the usually sprightly nation looked unmistakably ill, which was a reason in itself to be concerned. The guilt brewing in Yao's stomach worsened as he waited for an invitation to take his seat on the only currently empty sofa out of the three.

Trying to hang onto some semblance of self-control, he averted his eyes from Alfred's troubling appearance, only to catch sight of a certain blonde Briton already seated opposite him and looking nearly as bad, his attempt at ignoring him failing as he did so. Rarely had Yao ever seen Arthur look so exhausted or so dangerously thin over the years. Yao's ever-present parental instincts flared up, and he immediately made a mental note to cook everyone a nice, warm dinner sometime soon, and then perhaps nag them all off to bed, as they clearly needed an uninterrupted good night's sleep. For now though, he would settle for giving Arthur a friendly wave. "Hello, Op— England..." Even though Yao wasn't that hung up about the Opium Wars any more, the old nickname still resurfaced once in a while, mainly out of habit than spite now, and he looked down, reaching for a drink from the table without taking much notice as to what he had selected, just for the sake of doing something as a brief pause in the conversation made him feel uncomfortable. He barely acknowledged the open laptop, though not really taking much notice of it, as apparently Gilbert had decided to wander off somewhere, leaving his laptop turned on, so all they saw was an empty wall. "Have you two been brewing coffee?" he asked, attempting some light conversation. Of course, it had to be about the refreshments. "It smells awfully strong, aru... oh, is that tea on the table there? Never expected you to offer something healthy, aru," he said offhandedly to Alfred, his gaze flickering to the bowl of chips, and then over to the array of soft drinks on the tabletop, seemingly scrutinising each label. Apparently, no matter how critical the situation was, some things never changed. The time-weathered nation found himself oddly comforted by this.

Looking up, Yao finally took notice of the people that he'd walked in with, nodding to Francis and Michelle, remaining on his feet and waiting politely for an invitation to sit down. "_Ni men zui jin hai hao ma?_" _Have you been well recently?_ The familiar Chinese greeting slipped out of Yao's mouth before he realised what a stupid question it was. Countries were being bombed left and right, most nations were sick and some on the verge of dying, and the four in that very room were probably among the worst suffering. _Have you been well recently?_ Of course not.

"How are you doing?" Yao added quickly in English, hoping that the others had failed to understand his tactless blunder.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:02AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

"Damn." Damn pretty much summed up what they were all going through. Alfred looked worse off as it was obvious that he had been hit harder due to his strength and all, and yet Arthur still smiled a little tiredly, nodding with the sentiment but said, "Hello to you too. All right, Al?" at the last part he winced. It was a stupid question as he could see that Alfred wasn't doing well.

Arthur was only getting thinner and having coughing fits sometimes, but he knew that it was steadily getting worse.

"_Hey dude. Saw you got my text."_

"Yeah I did, and even I couldn't stand back and watch the world go further into hell." He would have said more but Alfred walked past him to greet whoever was at the door, acting as though the events of the past few minutes hadn't happened. It seemed that small talk between them was still ever nonexistent. He wouldn't admit it if it was his fault, though it was probably a mix of both their faults that things were a little awkward between them both. Brushing the thought aside, Arthur shook his head and followed him to see Yao looking around at the spread that was there, and Francis and Michelle, soon being greeted with a friendly,

_"Hello, Op— England."_

Arthur only raised an eyebrow slightly at the slip, and though the Opium Wars had been quite a while ago now, there were things that couldn't be forgotten like Yao's old name for him, though there was no point in getting irate about it; it didn't matter as that was over. What mattered now was stopping Ivan and his reign as the second Ivan the Terrible. It was easy to tell why the czar had been named after him nowadays and it was hard to believe that Ivan had once been considered a pleasant child.

The years that had passed since the other nation was small had changed him greatly and the thought made him frown slightly.

_"Have you two been brewing coffee? It smells awfully strong, aru... oh, is that tea on the table there? Never expected you to offer something healthy, aru,"_ Never had truer words been said. Alfred's diet only seemed to consist of junk food, though the other nations' comments on his own cooking weren't appreciated and his pride told him that he cooked well and everyone else couldn't deal with his different tastes. The little voice at the back of his mind, though told him that he was lying to himself rather badly. "The Earl Grey tea is for me, though I was surprised that he'd go out of his way to get it." he mumbled the last part, and went to pour himself a cup, though making a point to leave another cup in case Yao wanted some as well, mainly out of basic courtesy. After considering cream for a moment he perished the thought and drank the tea straight, and as he drank, the strong flavour staved off some of the bad feelings he was still getting from the illness though it truly didn't do a lot for him.

_"Ni men zui jin hai hao ma?"_

Arthur raised both eyebrows at this question. He still had a good grasp on the Chinese languages as he had taken care of Hong Kong for a considerable amount of time, so naturally he had a fairly firm grasp on the language. It wasn't the best question to ask, but he hid the rest of his frown behind the next drink of tea as he headed carefully over to the sofa to sit down beside Michelle, who seemed to have covered herself in a blanket and coughed a little harshly. Naturally, he responded by asking how she was, though unless it was his imagination, she inched further towards Francis a little at his approach, rather than answering him. He felt as old as he really was, and not in human years. He was sure that he looked it as well these days.

"I've had a better day, that's for sure." he stated tiredly, "It's a bit like the bloody Plague, but worse." Those in itself had been a dark period of his history when his people and some of the other nations had gotten the Black Plague, and to this day he had a slight aversion to rats, although that had been resolved fairly simply, once they had found that injections around the world and not centralized in one nation, would wipe it out, and that was what made this new form of terrorism worse.

Why couldn't life just be simple for once?

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:05AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Having Arthur know that he was in the bathroom throwing up had made him blush a little, and even now his face burned with embarrassment. The blush was light, but highly noticeable with his black and blue face, much to his annoyance.

"Feeling a little better today, but not by much. What about you?" Alfred wanted to say that he looked terrible, though of course in a joking manner, though he held his tongue due to the fact that he would've reacted to that the same way Arthur probably would. Instead of taking the risk of insulting the other, he just gritted his teeth and tried to ignore how the elder nation looked. His bruises were terrible though…just terrible.

_This sucks…I should say something else._

The only problem was that…nothing came to mind.

He was going to say something back to Arthur about the text, although it was then that he noticed Yao standing around, and decided to put him out of his misery. "Dude, you know that you can sit down, right?"

It didn't bother him what Yao had said about him saying dude all the time. This was how he talked and would always talk like that; it'd been a habit that even the over-obsessive England couldn't change, despite his best efforts in the past. It was difficult for him to see Yao looking this way after what had happened to everyone else. Ivan thought he'd join on his own, but Alfred wasn't so sure that he would. He was positive that Yao would help them as he'd some before, but he also harboured his doubts, although he didn't think about them too much. Losing three of the Nordics had been bad enough according to Arthur, though they all seemed pretty weak by the sound of things, not including Denmark, though to be honest he knew very little about them other than the fact that Finland, Iceland and Norway had had no choice but to surrender along with Poland. But then, Poland was weak, so he wasn't surprised by _that._

Smiling despite the situation, Alfred took his seat, lounging in the sofa as much as possible and feeling a little bit light headed for some reason. He was still waiting for Ivan's response to his previous text, which had been sent over eight hours ago in which he'd challenged his ridiculous claim that Matthew was really with him. Naturally, it hadn't yet arrived and he knew why. Ivan didn't _have_ Mattie. He was lying to him about it.

"So, everyone else's gonna arrive pretty soon. I mean, Gilbert said he'd be on video chat 'cause Ludwig's really not up to coming, Liz should've arrived 2 hours ago, same with Kiku, Im Yong and all of them are too ill to travel, and I dunno about anyone else. Never responded to the E-mail. Weird, right?" Alfred laughed slightly, attempting to hide his now rapidly growing unease at the thought of the others being late, and Hungary and Japan of all people. They were _never_ late, so it was only natural that he'd feel this way, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong, that something had happened to them somewhere along the way, though that might just be his new-found paranoia with Ivan, which had come into being about the time that the texts had started to come through.

Hearing Yao speak Chinese confused him. The only language that he knew was his own and he'd never really felt the desire to learn anyone else's due to the fact that it would be too difficult for him (also known as Alfred being lazy). He would much rather just speak English and only English, as everybody understood the language anyway. "I'm doing…okay. I guess. It kinda feels like 9/11 all over again…I dunno what's worse. They both suck, you know?" He replied back to Yao's question with a sigh. He couldn't stand thinking about it, but that was a shock to his country as well and it automatically made him think about that terrible day when the world changed for him.

Alfred had sent Ivan a text about him finding out about the vaccine a day or so ago, as soon as he'd received the message from the Federation's least loyal member, and he'd been getting the texts every few hours since, or rather, right up to the point that he asked for proof that Ivan had captured Mattie, and as far as Alfred was concerned, it'd been a fully blown war, bombarding one another with threats and insults, and under different circumstances it'd almost be comical. He was currently waiting on his proof that Ivan had Matthew locked up in his house and that Matthew had indeed surrendered to him, though of course he truly believed that his brother wouldn't do that. If he was in any trouble at all Alfred would be there to save him, after all, that's what a brother was for, and Mattie would've said something to him first, to enable him to do so.

Looking around the room briefly, he attempted to ignore the generally awful state that they were all in, with the exception of one, his startlingly bright blue eyes passing from one face to another, though at the same time trying not to stare too much, as they attempted small talk with one another, not to much prevail. He smiled lightly as he noticed Michelle, sitting extremely close to Francis, who continued to chat about one thing or another, and digging his hands into his pockets as he looked around the room, as Michelle cast a few wary glances over at Arthur every now and again, as though she half expected him to jump up and grab her or something. Despite this, they all looked worn out.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:05AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Yao looked rather ruffled when Alfred completely brushed off what little semblance of a lecture he'd given him. And he had even bothered to restrain himself and everything! He really didn't get any respect around here, did he?

But again, this wasn't the time to be dwelling on such trivial matters.

He picked up on Arthur's wordless offer and retrieved the extra teacup to pour himself some of the Earl Grey. A quiet sigh left his lips when he took the first piping hot sip, and he closed his eyes briefly, savouring the moment. Oh, how he loved tea. The flavour wasn't quite what he was used to, but it wasn't terrible. English tea was the only part of the country's cuisine that Yao actually didn't mind (due in part to Arthur's repeated butchered attempts at cooking English food, but that was beside the point).

The Briton's voice jolted him out of wandering thoughts. _"I've had better days, that's for sure."_ Yao's eyes flew open again and his comfortable feeling instantly vanished. The disheartened confession that Alfred added right after — _"I'm doing…okay. I guess okay."_ — didn't make things any better. Part of him didn't want to hear any more, but he had asked and they were answering. _Nine eleven. Plague. But worse..._ Yao recoiled at that. Memories surged to the forefront of his mind. Memories of panic. Sickness. Devastation. People — _his_ people — swarming the streets, crying, convulsing, collapsing. Bodies being shoved aside, hundreds upon hundreds of diseased corpses all piled into crude mass graves that cemeteries couldn't accommodate. Himself trudging through crumbling cities to survey the damage, weakened with fever, surrounded by the sickening stench of death...

He knew Arthur and Francis and other nations had gone through similar hell during that pandemic. Perhaps it had been even worse for Europe.

To have to go through that living nightmare again... they didn't deserve this.

Yao stared at his reflection in the teacup. His face flickered — so healthy, so full of _life_ — and his heart grew heavy with remorse. _Guilt, guilt, guilt._ Would it ever leave him alone?

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:06AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

What did it mean to die? Did someone just disappear never to be heard from again? She wasn't too sure how she would die. Would someone get her and bring her to a church on Seychelles for her friends to mourn her passing? Could her people come or would there be none left because they all died before her? She had seen humans die of becoming old, but that was impossibility for her. She didn't age like a human did. She was just some child even after all these years. So how would she die? She had been feeling extremely tired of late, and she slept a lot more than usual. If she just let sleep win and never woke up, would that really be okay? Michelle enjoyed. It was a delightful pastime. But it seemed quite selfish to want to sleep until she didn't exist anymore. There were still people out there that needed help. There were still many people who lived remotely on the other islands that were healthy. She couldn't be selfish! Not when France was suffering. Not when England was suffering! The nations that raised her and many of her other friends were suffering far greater than her. If she simply let herself disappear into nonexistence, then it would prove she was never a good friend to begin with. Regardless how small or useless she might have been, she wanted to be considered a good friend! If there was anything she was good at, it was friendship.

That was why she had to go to America. Her friends where there and she wanted to be near them. If she couldn't do much, she could at least cheer them on. Morale was important, and she was able to boost spirits. It was why people came and visited her. They enjoyed her warmth. Her appearances were starting to change. In the two weeks since the bad things started happening, she had started losing weight. People were dying on her island, but other people were coming. But eventually, the world would stop coming and then the worse would happen. She'd become barren as time passed but at least she could always be warm. She would never lose her warmth! She would smile until that day she disappeared from existence and everyone forgot about her again. She just hoped everyone could continue to smile when she did. She hoped everyone could happy and healthy again, smiling and laughing in peace…

The trip to America was always harsh. She always forgot how his part of the world wasn't like hers. It was always sunny and warm in her part of the world. Everything was green and happy, even during winter. In fact, _white Christmas_ meant you needed to be at the beach with the white sands. But Christmas was during summer. It was warmer in December than a month like May. But in America, things were so backwards! It was freezing! It was rainy and probably half the temperature than it was at home. She wasn't prepared for this! The girl sneezed in the back seat of the cab, bundled in a blanket she brought when leaving the airport. Why did his side of the world always get so cold? Why did other places need to be so cold? She hated the cold. It was always summer on her little island home. The sun came out to play every day. Even during rainy season, the sun was there making happy rainbows in the sky. But America's sky was grim. It was so dark and ominous. It made her want to turn around and go back to her happy home.

Michelle sneezed again.

"_Got a cold, missy?"_

"Non," she replied to the man beside her without noticing who it was until he was seated, and she'd inched a little closer to Francis as Arthur attempted to engage her in conversation, and she pulled the blanket closer around her. She needed to learn to dress differently. She couldn't go out to other countries wearing sun dresses and expect the weather to be forgiving. Things never worked like that when she used to go to England to ask him for permission for things. The weather on his side of the world was against her. It always wanted to rain on her, like some time of foreshadowing to how Arthur would rain upon her happiness, being the idiot that he was. She grumbled something about how stupid the cold was before Francis began to speak, and she couldn't suppress a light chuckle, though upon looking up at Alfred, her spirits were further dampened. She wanted to see his happy and smiling face. She wanted to confirm with her own eyes on how the hero never died, even if bad things happened. Everyone would be there, and all her fears would disappear. She'd feel so stupid for worrying about everyone. Arthur would probably call her an idiot, but she wouldn't mind. She'd be happy to be called an idiot because he was well. America was well. France was well. They all would be well and…

It was nice to see them, but it wasn't that nice at the same time. Arthur looked ill and America looked hurt. Her mouth opened and just hung there. **"Fff…"**she muttered in completely disbelief. She didn't want to say his name and acknowledge what she saw was real. France was always full of life. He was boisterous and flamboyant at all times. She liked to think she inherited her energetic nature from the blonde male. And he was always well-kept. But at the moment he looked ill and downbeat. He didn't have his natural captivating aura about him. He was much paler than normal, like something had sucked the life from him. He didn't look like he would collapse at any moment, but he didn't look like he was going to have his rather physical types of greetings either. It made her feel even worse. France and England were both hurt even though they were the ones she ran to when she needed support. So what was supposed to happen now?

On the bright side of things, Yao looked healthy, which was a bit of a relief. At least not everyone was hurt… But more importantly, America looked a bit scary. He looked upset, like he was going to hurt someone. Her happy smile slowly dissolved as her blanket slipped from her hands. Her little hands bunched up and went against her chest as she gagged at the smell of coffee, as it hit her. It was so strong! It was trying to kill the small island girl. She coughed, thinking for the hundredth time that she should've gotten used to it by now, considering how long she'd been sitting in the room. Coffee always seemed so bitter, and she disliked bitter things. Michelle preferred sweet smells and tastes. Why couldn't Alfred's house smell like sugar?

"D-did je do something wrong?"

Was Alfred upset she had come in unannounced? She really didn't mean to… No, that couldn't be it. Alfred wasn't a callous person. But…he was hurt. And so was Arthur. She wanted to hug them both, but this really didn't feel like the right time to do such things. Not with his expression…

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:07AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Francis smiled and looked into Michelle's big brown eyes, momentarily lost in their beauty, attempting to ignore the bruises that surrounded them as she inched further towards him when Arthur took his seat beside her. Honestly, he should know better by now than to attempt conversation with her; he should just accept that she didn't like him too much, and rightly so.

He glanced around at the few faces in the room, some of which he didn't think would be there at the meeting, but, was glad they were, if that made sense. Glad to have more help, of course. Francis wanted to know just what was going on, which, considering the current situation, nobody could blame him for. He had heard bits and pieces here and there from just standing at the doorway, and was intrigued to hear more. What had happened to the Nordics? And what was that about Arthur's younger brother? What was his name...Peter?

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:08AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Alfred tried to engage in whatever they were talking about, including pointless comments here and there about whatever. He wasn't really listening, and was currently fiddling with his mobile phone aimlessly, tossing it from one hand to another as though holding it too long would burn his palms, as he waited...and waited... for that one text message that could change his life in one simple sentence. He was beginning to doubt his own reasoning, and to consider Ivan's ridiculous claim. It _would_ make sense for him to capture Mattie, having a direct link to the USA as he did, and he _was_ a fairly large nation, though he'd never surrender to that bastard, surely. And Ivan rarely lied about anything really, preferring to be blatantly truthful, which in its own way was far more sinister, so it would make sense... Perhaps he wasn't bluffing, after all...

Alfred shook the thought off, rapping his hand on the arm of the chair as he pushed away the thought, suddenly becoming overly interested in the conversation without really processing what was being said, telling himself continuously that if he called Mattie, he'd reply as usual, and all would be well, although a part of him was still majorly on edge and waiting with baited breath for his phone to make that overly satisfying 'ping' that marked the arrival of a new message... For what seemed to be the thousandth time that day.

As the others' conversation seemed to change to a serious debate about something or another, his anxiety levels increased to an extent, too afraid to unlock his phone for fear of what might be lurking in the Inbox, despite the fact that he would usually have noted the fact that he hadn't yet been notified by his ringtone of the arrival of a text message, though he was too tense to think straight. Everything would be okay...

This was just the Cold War all over again...

Sort of...

Nothing could happen to Mattie...

It wasn't possible for anything negative to happen to anybody that he cared about, it just didn't process in Alfred's mind...

So that meant that it wouldn't happen, right?

It was too unreal to be true...

Just when the tension had become too much to bear, and he was on the verge of yelling at the inanimate object, the first few words of Star Spangled Banner erupted noisily from his phone, causing every set of eyes in the room to stare at him, all conversation on the original topic forgotten as they it moved onto the subject of Alfred's phone, and though he saw their mouths moving up and down as though they were speaking, whatever they said was lost to him. Barely allowing the first sentence of the ringtone to play, he unlocked it, and all he could think of was the text message that sat before him, which he read every word of frantically several times as to not miss anything important, as though it were the only thing in the world that mattered, and then his frantic, wide eyes focused on the photo below it, of his brother, taking in every aspect of it, which was guaranteed to haunt the back of his overactive mind for centuries to come, the terrifyingly genuine image of the man who looked like he might be his twin, usually bright blue eyes dull and unfocused, glasses lost completely, and his pale complexion had been all but lost behind the black and blue gashes, and the blood that formed a thin layer of red over his face. It almost looked like he wasn't even there. His grip on his phone tightened so much that if he wasn't careful he could break it, and all of a sudden anger washed over him that was too overwhelming to ignore, and he could just feel the rage rising, suffocating him, until he was about ready to burst, and stood with a start, the look in his eyes ending all conversation, and a somewhat confused silence washed over them all momentarily, before all hell broke loose. How many nations knew? Was he the last to know and no one had told him! He was just finding out about this** NOW**! Under any other circumstances, he would've probably said that he was overreacting, though this was a perfect opportunity for Alfred to let out all of his feelings of stress, confusion, frustration and anger in one huge wave.

Without even pausing, a long stream of curses and god knows what else erupted from him as he virtually screamed into the faces of his guests, all else forgotten completely. His words were virtually incoherent even to him, as the words came out in an endless stream, though they still didn't seem to be coming out fast enough, as he verbally attacked his fellow nations, who understandably had no clue whatsoever as to why he'd suddenly begun this enraged tirade, apart from the odd phrase that they could barely comprehend.

His hands shook as he stared at the picture; unable to take his eyes from it for longer than a second, and he pushed the phone toward Yao and Arthur, though Arthur had to hold his hand steady to see the phone clearly. **"Did you know about this, dudes!"** He demanded, voice still raised to breaking point, gritting his teeth as he pulled the phone back, typing back as fast as his fingers could go, jabbing the 'send' button as though it would make it go faster, and in his haste accidentally selecting the option to call Elizaveta, though he didn't notice. **"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME! I'm kicking his ass! You hear? KICKING. . ASS."** He roughly shoved his phone back into his pocket, his words once again coming out in an incoherent stream and turned his attention back to Yao and Arthur, completely blanking the other two, and ignoring the doorbell, which didn't really process right at that moment. **"... tell you dudes what I know later...This is more important. I-"** were the only phrases that came out that made any sense whatsoever, yet he continued to scream and yell, his voice rapidly becoming hoarse as he did so, though he didn't care. The vaccine was important, but this was even more. His brother was in trouble, and he hadn't tried to prevent it up to this point. Why hadn't he _called_ Mattie? Why did he _assume _that he was okay? Was he _really _that gullible! And he was going to Russia, beating the shit out of Ivan and taking his brother back home with him, and nothing could get in his way.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:08AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Yao was so lost in contemplation, he almost spilled his tea in surprise when Alfred suddenly shouted angrily without showing any sign of stopping and abruptly rose from his seat, sending KFC and milkshake flying, though he didn't seem to notice, and practically shoved his phone in their faces, his face beetroot red from screaming too much as he continued in an endless stream. The American was so agitated that it took Yao a few moments to realise what was displayed on the screen, and his hands were shaking so much that Arthur had to hold his wrist steady to see the image at all. "Is that...Matthew?" He could see Francis and Michelle craning their necks to see over Alfred's shoulder, trying to get a look at the state the poor Canadian was in. "America, what's going on — _Wei!_" Yao quickly set his cup down on the coffee table, ready to intervene in case Alfred stupidly decided to run off and indeed "kick Ivan's ass". The very last thing they needed was for that child's rashness to get himself and others killed."I don't know what you're thinking, but you're definitely not going off on your own, aru!" Yao said strictly, his centuries' worth of parenting experience shining through as he narrowed his gaze and looked Alfred directly in the eye, though #Alfred showed no sign that he had even acknowledge the fact that he was speaking, doing nothing else but yelling in their faces, throwing a ton of curses and incoherent phrases at them. "I know that he's... your brother..." He suddenly thought of Kiku, bloody and beaten and dying on the ground — _no, not now_ — "But... recklessness isn't going to help Canada. Especially when you're all like this, aru!"

At that moment, an exceedingly loud disembodied voice decided to make itself known, yelling "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OVER THERE? DON'T IGNORE ME, THAT'S JUST NOT AWESOME AT ALL," or something along those lines, which greatly startled him and those around him, (all except for Alfred, who was beyond listening by this point) until they realised that Gilbert had resumed his place in front of his computer screen, with the occasional harsh, rattling cough distantly coming from somewhere in the far corner of the room, although nobody seemed to take much notice of the Prussian or the coughing, causing him to yell almost as much as Alfred was currently, doing nothing but contributing to the growing commotion inside the house.

He took a deep breath to continue on that lecture, when a distraction walked into the room in the form of a short, dark-haired male who he knew all too well—though he abruptly stopped when she saw the scene inside Alfred's living room, along with Elizaveta, who looked just as awful as everybody else, what with her bruises, and a fairly large bandage on her forehead, though she also looked hot and flustered for some reason, her eyes wide in...Fear? Yao paused and stared at him; it took him a few moments to remember that Kiku had said that he was coming.

"Kiku, Elizaveta, _xiao gu niang_," he said in way of greeting, his expression growing more worried when he saw the state he was in: he didn't look as bad as the other two, but he was missing a certain quality that Yao had come to associate with him, though why Kiku's condition still surprised him after 3 months. He looked over to Michelle, her face a mask of horror. Did Ivan's illness hit her as well? The poor girl was so small too! In a grim way, Yao could understand why people like Alfred and Arthur were attacked — this was war, after all, and he could see how those two could be a threat — but Michelle hadn't even done anything and she was still like this? What in the eighteen levels of Hell was Ivan _thinking?_

Indignation boiled up in him again, but the Chinese nation sternly repressed it. He was not going to throw a fit like Alfred was presently doing. He needed to be a rational adult here!

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:08AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Arthur looked up as Al pushed the phone toward himself and Yao, flinching a little as he looked at the picture and heard the exclamation. It reminded him of the fact that he didn't know about the state of his brothers. At least Alfred had a picture of Matthew, though it wasn't the best state for the younger nation to be in, and for a moment, tears pricked at the edges of his eyes due to the horror and stress of it all. As for his older brothers, they were still mean to him and even though they were all considered adults, but that didn't mean that he didn't care about them. The five of them often fought, and Ireland sometimes got involved when Northern Ireland was in the argument, but they all had their moments of getting along. "I wish I could tell you differently, but to tell you the truth, even I knew." He said softly. He only knew because his Prime Minister had spoken to him about the nations that would most likely be given over to Ivan because of their state of being, though he realised that he might as well not say anything, due to Alfred's lack of interest in listening, being too enraged to do so, understandably. "I haven't seen any of my older brothers and I'm worried about them, and then there's Peter." Arthur buried his head in his hands as he didn't want to think about the fact that he would be in the same position when it came to his own younger brother. "I may have to give him over to Ivan just to have him get better. I don't think Ivan meant to hit him hard, but...Sealand's so small." He didn't want to say any more as he'd probably choke up.

"_I'm kicking his ass! You hear? KICKING. HIS. FUCKING. ASS." _

He did scowl though at the same time he couldn't really say that he didn't want to kick Ivan's ass either. It was in the forefront of his mind at that moment, but he felt more tired than usual.

"Not the best course of action, idiot, and this is why you weren't told in the first place, Alfred." He said, the tiredness obvious in his voice. "I'm not saying that I don't want to kick his arse, but we're all sick and he's in full power." he decided not to say anything about the fact that Yao wasn't sick as well. It would be best to not bring that to the forefront of everyone's minds, and as Alfred's yelling became a noise in the background to him, he figured Ivan wanted Yao well in order to get him on his side, but at the same time Arthur was glad that Yao hadn't gone over to Ivan's side.

Arthur scowled again, down into his tea for a moment.

It wasn't bad, it was just that he didn't have an idea as to what they all could do at the moment and it wasn't the best feeling in the world. He looked up at the familiar voice in the doorway."Hello, Kiku." He said with a bit of a tired smile. He hadn't seen the island nation in a while, save for the times that he had visited her to see how he was doing. It had been a bit of a while since they'd seen one another, though, as the two weren't exactly close friends. He looked over at Michelle, noting the terrified expression on her face; she shouldn't have to live with things like this, she was too young.

It had been a bit of a while since he'd spoken French as more often than not he was bickering with said nation in English, although he was still familiar with the language, as he had also raised Canada, not to mention that there were French parts of America_._

"_D-did Je do something wrong?"_

He'd forgotten that she had moments of nervousness. She was one of the younger nations and being raised by France didn't necessarily garner confidence in people."You didn't do anything wrong, Michelle, Alfred's gone off his rocker again, though I can't blame him. I'm pretty much in the same position." He muttered, though he doubted that anybody was paying attention to listen to him and took another sip of tea before asking her, "How are you feeling?" After a moment, he found that he greatly disapproved in the fact that she wasn't dressed enough. "It's the middle of December and almost winter, why aren't you dressed for the weather." He couldn't tell how hard _it _had hit her just by looking, though he figured it had reached her shores as well.

* * *

><p><em>Date: December 28th, 3000<em>_  
><em>_Time: 10:11AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

The drive through Alfred's capital city made Kiku cringe as he gazed from the broken window of the cab. Normally preferring his privacy, he rented a car, but in his current state he was not about to attempt driving in D.C. traffic. It seemed no matter how much tragedy struck a nation, some small things (like reckless driving and cursing out the window at others) remained the same, taunting reminders of normalcy that made him all the more inwardly frustrated. He passed by a few familiar monuments, standing tall and majestic as usual, which seemed out of place considering the situation. He could well imagine the way Alfred's people must be feeling, seeing their capital city so shattered, what with the loss of half of their government. Cities represented progress, and they kindled in their people pride in their achievements and hopes for the future. To gaze over a sea of destroyed statues with only a few still intact that once represented Alfred's great achievements, his great strides in changing the way the world thought of itself, made the older nation's heart ache and long to be home in his own shattered city with his despair-filled people.

The cab came to an abrupt stop at an intersection, the red stoplight hanging precariously from its crooked pole. Kiku was surprised the traffic signal still worked, let alone stopped traffic. The halt in their progress to Alfred's left him feeling uneasy and restless, which only intensified as a man made his way to his broken window, holding a knife in shaky and unwashed hands. Kiku averted his eyes, but returned his gaze to the man's face as he felt him stop alongside the cab, the point of the knife only centimetres from Kiku's cheek.

_"Holy fuck you're almost a corpse too! Shit fucking hell! Okay, give me your wallet, anything you've got that's valuable! You won't fucking need it!"_He pressed the point a little closer for emphasis, his blue eyes (not the same blue as Alfred's, Kiku noticed) wide with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. His hand trembled on the knife, clearly showing his instability.

Kiku was saved from having to answer by the cab driver stomping his foot down on the gas the minute the light turned green. Instinctively, he forced himself to fall left, barely managing to suppress a gasp of pain as he hit the floor. The sound of squealing tires and the revving of the engine weren't quite loud enough to drown out the hiss of his just abandoned leather seat being cut and the shouted _"Holy fucking shit man!"_of the robber left in the dust. He reseated himself, pulling the knife from the seat and placing it carefully on the floor as far away from himself as he could manage to reach. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning as more of the raven locks came out in his fingers. He had been losing quite a lot of it since the bombing, though he wasn't surprised considering the stress he had been under. Still, he could only hope the others wouldn't notice. It had only been seven days since the attack, and if Yao noticed any change in his health the Chinese man wouldn't leave him alone about it until the problem was solved.

The cab arrived at Alfred's home shortly after, helping him to escape the torturous silence that hung in the air between himself and the cab driver. He got out shakily, limping as he made his way over to pay the driver. Without looking at the bills (he knew what they were) he handed them to the man with a soft "Thanks" and turned to walk away. The driver shouted something to him about too much money, but he ignored him and made his way slowly up the road. When he heard the squeal of tires behind him fade, he took his phone from his pocket and checked for Alfred's response. He swiftly typed back, and then concentrated on making it up the walkway without being sick from the pain in his stomach and back.

Kiku pocketed his phone as he stopped at Alfred's door. The texting back and forth had apparently stalled the man long enough for him to arrive, and judging by the voices he could hear from the inside, there were still others. He hesitated a moment, weighing the difference between knocking or simply entering before deciding on the latter. If the voices inside were any indication of how badly Alfred was taking the news, then his knocking might go unnoticed. Besides, Alfred knew he was coming; he had not indicated that he would not despite the man's cancellation of the meeting. He could always ask Alfred's forgiveness later for the intrusion, if necessary.

Sighing, he turned the knob, pushing the door open and entering the house. Pausing a moment in the entryway, he removed his shoes and placed them beside the door, the toes facing out. Alfred had once laughed at this custom of his, calling him superstitious until Kiku had told him the story of the child who had forgotten to turn his shoes. A ghost (sometimes a demon) had followed him in, and because the boy's shoes faced in the house, the ghost could slip into them and then roam freely around the dwelling. He devoured the child and his family, and so if one forgets to turn their shoes, bad demons or ghosts can enter their home and eat them in their sleep. The last thing Alfred needed in his house was a demon or ghost, though Kiku highly doubted either one of those supernatural beings could wreak more havoc than what was already being wrought.

He followed the voices into Alfred's living room, containing his surprise as he stopped in the doorway. The scene before him looked almost normal. Alfred stood in the centre of the room, yelling and furiously poking the screen of his phone to life while Yao and Arthur moved away from him to help…he thought a moment before her name came to him…Michelle as she watched the American rather warily. Yes, all normal save for the pale faces and the looks of pure exhaustion etched into almost everyone's features. Even Yao looked weary, though the virus had not touched him.

He had planned on simply entering and sitting until Alfred or someone else noticed him there, at which time he would have apologized for his lateness. But his body seemed to have other plans, bringing a coughing fit and dizzy spell that made him lean against the doorframe for balance. He kept his head down as he coughed into the handkerchief, knowing the others would know him and praying that they wouldn't make a big deal out of the entire ordeal. It had been hard enough convincing his bosses to let him come to America in his condition (actually, he had snuck out), and if they found out that the other nations had made a fuss over him AGAIN they might consider making good on their threats to lock him in his house.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:09AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

When Yao asked if that was Matthew, Alfred narrowed his eyes and shook his head rapidly. **"**_Yeah! That's Mattie! Ivan said he surrendered and had him and he really does! That fucking bastard doesn't know what he's got himself into! I'm gonna go slash him to fucking pieces and fucking burn the remains! And that's just the beginning. I'm gonna march right in there, and- "_ He wasn't sure if anyone knew this and he felt sick to think that they were hiding this terrible fact from him; his own brother had no clue. It was highly possible that the others didn't know about it either, but it was also possible that they knew…and just didn't want him to know in fear of him doing something like this. When Arthur finally spoke up, a gasp escaped him, both surprised and annoyed to know that at least Arthur knew, and had failed to tell him about Matthew. Alfred frowned when he mentioned his own brothers and young Peter. Although Peter was too small…it seemed as though Ivan just didn't care and wanted even the smallest lands to suffer the hardships that even a fully fledged country had trouble with. _"Dude…I'm sorry."_ Yao watched as Alfred's eyes softened, just for a moment, and ceased his relentless yelling. Thinking about Matthew caused Alfred's eyes to narrow and rage to return to them.

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:10AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Even though Arthur was right about this lack of strength, it wasn't something that Alfred was going to let happen. Heading over to Russia was something that he was planning on doing and there was nothing that would stop him from bringing his brother back home with him and, well, kicking the fucking Russian right out of Ivan. That was just what he was going to do and he wasn't about to let _anyone_ stop him. That included Arthur and his stupid logical thinking.

_You can go stick your "logical thinking" up your ass... _He thought to himself, stopping himself from saying it before it slipped out, to avoid arguments, though he was so irate that he could've easily said it, no yelled it, right in his face, and not have a second thought about it.

Hearing Yao's voice now, his eyes burned into his and it could be taken as a challenge for Yao trying to stop him too. "That's my brother, dude. I'm not letting Ivan torture him, okay? You got a _problem_ with that, dude?" Ivan was probably giving him that vaccine that could help heal Matthew, but he wanted to make sure his brother was free. So, new plan. Kick Ivan's ass, find the vaccine and take Matthew back home. That sounded reasonable…very reasonable actually. In his mind he could already picture it.

"_Dude! I'm taking the vaccine, Matthew and freeing the world and you can't stop me because I'm the hero!" To this the frightened Ivan would say "oh my! Whatever should I do? I'm no match for your strength, Alfred. I'll just surrender now…dear me."_

Just how Ivan turned into a Southern belle halfway through Alfred wasn't sure…it just happened in his mind.

A smile formed on his lips just thinking about it and having Ivan turn into a Southern belle only made that smile wider, though it quickly turned into a scowl at the thought of Matthew being beaten into handing over his land. That rage returned though and he was about to take out his phone and text Ivan something else, yet more searing and hate mail, but decided against it. No, he would call before he'd text him back.

Just when he considered calling Ivan, he heard the door crack open and in walked Kiku with a hot and flustered Elizaveta, who looked as though she'd run a marathon five times over.

He turned his attention to her instantly, rage in his eyes, and although it wasn't directed at her, he was still showing it. **"...No, dude. It's Ivan. I'm kicking his ass! I'm going to fucking kill him! Don't you fucking want to go shoot a bullet through his worthless head? After what he did to you? DO YOU EVEN CARE AT ALL!"**Killing a nation by beating them up was impossible, it was their nation that had to be affected and Alfred was low on materials to fight a battle. Bombs were impossible to make and that made building one not going to happen. He'd knock Ivan all around Moscow! He wasn't going to just sit back and let this brother be forced to stay with him. His rage was only growing and he started toward the door again. Either he didn't hear what Arthur had said to Michelle or he didn't care. Actually, the only thing that went through his mind was getting Matthew back and getting that vaccine too.

His phone suddenly started playing the Star Spangled Banner once again, and he narrowed his eyes, grabbing it and flipping it open to see that it was just a text message from Kiku telling about him being late. His thumbs danced rapidly against the keys as he typed back to him. It played again, but this time it was Gilbert and he wrote back as fast as he could for him as well. He was a little "pissed" that he was being ignored on Skype, apparently. Kiku texted him back almost immediately, and annoyed him further by his questions about Yao. He looked over at the Chinese man and then typed back to him.

His anger rose once again with each text that he sent, set on calling Ivan. Call Ivan and give a piece of his mind. Since his phone was already in his hand, he didn't have to take it out and quickly dialled his number, ignoring the others completely. He waited for Ivan to answer the phone while gritting his teeth.

"Pick up you fucking bastard."

Alfred was in such rage that he couldn't think of anything at the time but that photo of Mattie...how he'd looked, Calling Ivan and getting a last-minute ticket to Russia. Whatever its capital was, he was going there, he thought as he stormed towards the door, as the commotion increased, Elizaveta knelt before the coffee table to speak to Gilbert, though she didn't seem too happy at all, quite the opposite in face, something like anger, but she seemed to b on the verge of tears at the same time, as Alfred waited for Ivan to pick up the phone so that he could" talk" to him.

Kiku was standing right in the door way, preventing Alfred from heading outside, which he didn't appreciate. The way he looked was terrible, but he didn't seem to care about Michelle or Kiku. His thoughts were only on his brother and his brother only.

"Kiku, meetings cancelled...now... move!"

He knew that he was being uncaring and rude, but all he was thinking of was Matthew. Matthew. Matthew.

He continued to wait for Ivan to answer the phone, listening for the click to hear that he answered it. Alfred was also waiting for Kiku to move and he glared into his eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to just leave already.

At least Alfred possessed enough tact to treat Sealand's fall with sensitivity. Of course, he still ignored everything else that Arthur said, but it was a relief to see that he wasn't _entirely_ immature.

Nevertheless, Yao pulled an exasperated face. Alfred clearly wasn't listening to any of his elders' rational words, and Yao had the urge to give him a good smack upside the head. But, tenacious and impulsive as always, Alfred was already shouting his resolve and storming off past Yao, past Arthur and Michelle, and straight towards —

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:10AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Kiku...?

There was a split second of stunned silence — and then Yao rushed forward in alarm, completely disregarding everybody else in the room. Though he knew that he'd greeted Kiku a few minutes ago, he'd been thinking more about keeping Alfred from getting himself killed, though je still felt as though Japan deserved a full welcome. At that moment, he could only see Kiku, _his_ Kiku, standing at the doorway looking pale and feeble and more awful than ever. "J-Japan! You really did end up coming? I didn't know whether to believe your text or not... Look at you, aru! You're not getting any better, are you? Why didn't you tell me anything? When did you leave? Was it before or after I sent the text? Did you even have time to eat all the _zong zi_ I left you? Aiyaa and I worked so hard to make them for you, aru!" If there was anything Yao hated, it was wasted food. Especially if one of his siblings was the culprit. There was a definite note of annoyance in his voice as he thought of how delicious those _zong zi_ could have been, but now they could possibly be sitting in the refrigerator as staling leftovers. He had spent hours preparing them! (... Okay, so maybe most of that time was spent chatting with friends at the market and constantly getting distracted by the computer, and tearing apart the entire batch looking for a raw sparrow-filled one that his boss somehow managed to sneak in... But he'd still worked hard to make them special!)

Yao was abruptly jolted out of his thoughts when Kiku lapsed into a fit of violent coughs, faltering slightly and looking dangerously on the verge of collapsing. Cold, paralysing fear suddenly shattered Yao's bemusement (_oh no what if he's finally at his limit what if he dies right here no, no, no_) and he quickly reached out and put his arms around his brother to help steady him. "Aiya, _xiao xin yi diar, xiao xin..._" Everything about the Chinese nation seemed patronising, unwittingly so, from his expression to his tone to the way he held Kiku around the shoulders like he was a helpless child again. "And this is why I didn't want you to come, aru! I told you to stay home and rest, you know you shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard! I know that you're a strong person — a strong nation —"

His hold around Kiku tightened slightly. He struggled to quell the familiar bitterness rising in his throat. "— but you have to stop doing this, aru! You're not — you're not strong _enough_ right now..." The possibility that he was being overly concerned or overprotective or that Kiku wouldn't take too well to his words never crossed his mind. Yao just didn't want to see Kiku getting hurt again, but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried or how often he chided, Kiku never wanted to listen to him. He never called him _ge ge_ or _oniisan_ or _big brother_... he'd never really accepted him as such. It had always been like that, Yao thought ruefully. Like they weren't even family. He simply didn't... care?

That was when Alfred's voice interrupted the (very one-sided) conversation, rude and insensitive and offensively loud: _"Kiku, meetings cancelled...now move!"_

A sudden surge of anger betrayed Yao's self-control. Instantly, he whipped his head around and threw Alfred an icy glare, shifting protectively in front of Kiku as if the American had threatened to hit him. "Don't you dare talk to Japan like that!" he snapped. His maternal air had vanished, replaced by the kind of harsh, unyielding defiance that he carried to the battlefield. "Can't you see he's in no condition to take your demands? The nerve of you, to treat a sick person like that! Don't forget that we're all suffering right now, aru! Show some respect for once, aru!" So much for not throwing a fit. Still, Alfred's single-minded attitude was really testing his temper. Yao wasn't trying to downplay Matthew's predicament or anything; far from it, as he was friends with the Canadian as well and was understandably horrified by the whole thing. But that gave nobody the excuse to yell at Kiku and shove him carelessly to the side!

_Date: December 28th, 3000__  
><em>_Time: 10:10AM__  
><em>_Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's house_

Kiku raised his gaze from the floor in time to feel strong hands gripping his shoulders, centuries of fighting instincts causing his muscles to tense in preparation for an unknown attack. Instead, the assault came in the form of irritated words, condescending tone and accent alerting his brain that the assailant was only Yao. The Chinese man bombarded him with questions and accusations, broken only during his coughing fit to resume once his ailments had quieted. He felt Yao's strong arms pulling him closer, trying to pry him away from the safety of the door post and pull him into the warm living room.

_"You're not — you're not strong enough right now..."_

Kiku stood, or rather, leaned against his ground, waiting until his coughing subsided. Yao's words were meant to cut into him, to remind him that he needed help. Kiku stared into the man's eyes, brown revealing nothing of his thoughts and feelings concerning the matter of his strength. The silence was his way of disagreeing-of telling someone else that they were incorrect in their assumptions. But Kiku suspected that Yao would not understand this; it was not the first time the Chinese man had misunderstood him or completely ignored him due to his habit of simplifying matters.

_"Kiku, meetings cancelled...now move!"_

Kiku's gaze travelled away from Yao's accusing golden eyes to Alfred's burning blue. His brown eyes revealed nothing to the American about his thoughts as he observed Alfred's mood quietly. By the soft buzzing sounds coming from near Alfred's ear, Kiku could easily guess Alfred was calling Ivan (the source of the button mashing), the gritted teeth and edge to his voice teetering on rude save for the circumstance. Kiku had become used to hearing such things come from Alfred, the younger nation unaware of how his words touched others' ears as he shouted his plans or commanded everyone to follow him into some crazy scheme. Kiku had once tried to lecture Alfred on his habit of watching scary movies and forcing himself on someone else, even going so far as to give away video games to him to assist him. His plan had failed miserably, and since then the raven-haired man always felt it most prudent to either agree quietly or keep his thoughts to himself; Alfred rarely listened to them anyway.

This situation warranted as one such time. The arrival of himself and Elizaveta had strengthened his resolve, and he waited a moment while his own breathing evened out enough to speak. Kiku turned his head slightly to gaze over his shoulder at Elizaveta behind him. His eyes remained unreadable, lips quivering only in suppressed coughs as he stared politely. Elizaveta looked as determined as ever, despite the fact that she looked exhausted for some reason, though the chemicals were taking their toll on her in a slightly more subtle way (aside from the obvious). She looked just as bad as everyone else, though as she passed himself, Yao and Alfred in the doorway, she soon found that she couldn't be heard amid the commotion from within the house, and as Gilbert's horribly altered image was visible on the laptop, she settled for taking the opportunity to speak with her childhood friend, who she hadn't seen in weeks.

Kiku used the door frame for support and moved slightly aside for no particular reason as he greeted Michelle, who had passed the doorway on her way to the bathroom. The pulling of his lips against gravity felt forced, though he could only hope she understood that he meant well. She was someone to be admired, at least in Kiku's eyes. He would never be able to tell her this, though he hoped that someday he would. They could only hope to live that long, he supposed. The small space in the doorway suddenly felt crowded, and he ducked against the door frame, attempting to take up as little space as possible despite the Chinese man still clutching his shoulders.  
><em>"Don't you dare talk to Japan like that!"<em>

His thoughts were brought abruptly back again by Yao as the man snapped at Alfred, stepping between himself and the blond. Kiku inwardly sighed, eyes travelling from Alfred's gritted jaw to the new tension in Yao's shoulders as he spoke in a commanding tone Kiku had heard many times in his history. _"Can't you see he's in no condition to take your demands? The nerve of you, to treat a sick person like that!"_The words brought back hazy memories of his wars against China-the way his men tore through captured bodies, heedless of age or ailment, as the Chinese man thrashed against his bindings and fought for his citizens. The words reverberated through his memory, fingers trembling beneath the handkerchief he clutched as his mind imagined it to be the collar of a frail old Chinese woman. All for spite and to make his point, he had allowed his men to desecrate everyone, leaving not a soul untouched save for the ancient representative of China. In Kiku's mind at the time and to the present, the dead had always gotten the fairer treatment.

_"Don't forget that we're all suffering right now, aru! Show some respect for once, aru!"_

Kiku wanted to point out the irony in Yao speaking such words in their presence. How dare he lecture them on what they should and should not do when he could know nothing of their ailments. This bombing-it went beyond plague, war, entire villages burning to the ground. No, it was more like a slow and corroding acid, tearing mercilessly at everything it touched, eating the countries alive from the inside and out. Atomic bombs, nuclear warfare, floods and natural disaster-nothing could compare to this. However, the tension in the air hung like the silver blade of a guillotine, waiting to rend their fragile alliance in two. He was good at biting his tongue, saying what needed to be said and nothing more, even if his thoughts ran much deeper. He would even say nothing, so long as the fragile peace established in Alfred's home could be maintained.

As for Alfred, unfortunately Kiku knew that he was dead serious. If Alfred had, by some strange twist of fate, been born with the superpowers he so admired in his heroes, the American might have forgone the plane ride and simply ran across the ocean to Ivan's house. Hell, if America had super speed, they wouldn't be having this argument now! Though, in his present condition, even the hero Alfred might have had to stop in Hawaii along the way to rest, as like his super strength, his powers were diminished thanks to Ivan. He could understand Alfred's reasoning for wanting to go 'kick Ivan's ass'. Losing a brother to someone like Ivan could make anyone do something reckless. However, he was secretly in agreement with the others, though for a different reason. Alfred was, thus far (aside from Yao) their strongest force, despite the virus hitting him too. If something were to happen to him at Ivan's home, the odds of the Rebellion succeeding in the end became significantly less, if not vanish.

However, explaining that war was like chess to someone like Alfred would prove futile. Kiku did not think that Alfred would take very kindly to being described as the queen, even if it was meant figuratively. He mentally weighed his choices-stand up and agree with Yao or agree with Alfred. Doing either would place him in an awkward position, though perhaps no more awkward than being jammed in Alfred's door frame with the fighting countries in front of him.

"Fine then, Alfred-san. If you insist on going to Ivan-san's home, then I am going with you."

He knew Alfred would refuse. He also knew Yao would refuse to let him go. However, he also knew that his proposal to not allow Alfred to go alone might be a hint to others that perhaps Alfred could be reasoned with easier if he was away from the group-AFTER his anger had subsided. However, if no country offered to go with him instead, Kiku would happily accompany Alfred, regardless of Yao's protests. His grudge against Ivan ran almost as deep as Alfred's own, though Alfred's was more akin to a flaring flame while Kiku's more to a smouldering fire.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: O_O<p>

Did I REALLY write THAT much!

Sorry that I got tired near the end, and that it rambles a lot! :/ And that it's hard to keep track of! There was so much that I wanted to say! And I want to do a bit about Gilbert and Liz's conversation via Skype, but I don't know how to fit it into the next chapter. The original version of this chapter was really confusing due to the amount of characters in it, so I decided to do it from their individual points of view! I'll probably do this a lot with busy chapters with lots of things happening in them!

Well, if it was successful? Please tell me what you thought of the layout! ^^

And about the whole "story's gonna get interesting from now on" promises, this marks the end of me introducing characters, describing their current state etc. Now's on to the good part.

And this time I mean it, I promise!

And yeah, I'm definitely going to do a few chapters from Ivan's point of view and a few other Russian Federation nations eventually, even though I personally find it hard to relate to and like the character Russia... -_-

So, there is method to my madness! From this one long-winded chapter, I've got this whole plot planned out, and it is not black and white. There are plot twists and whatnot too! :D

And my thought process behind the fact that they're using apple Macs and Skype is that Skype's like this sort of weird futuristic-like version though I'm not mentioning holograms or anything, because I personally find it hard to believe that they'd exist, if you get what I mean. When I was editing it, I had Yao commenting on Alfred's choice of laptop, it being several hundred years old by now, but I cut it out again because it didn't fit in with him 'barely acknowledging it.' So...yeah. And I couldn't think of a way to re-add it XP

I guess Al likes his pre-historic laptop...

Next chapter will probably be sometime next week or a little later considering the amount of text here. I'm not planning on writing this much in one chapter again by the way, so don't worry! ^^


	5. Chapter 5

_Date: December 28th, 3000  
>Time: 10:10AM<br>Location: Washington DC, USA, Alfred's House/Washington DC Airport_

_(I'm listening to Horseshoes and Handgrenades and Governator by Green Day as I write this, but the lyrics don't fit. I like how it sounds like the character in the song is getting increasingly angry about...something, I dunno. That fits, I guess... And I'm not really getting into this chapter very much, its just filler that's needed for the story to make sense. I LOVE CHAPTER 6 THOUGH! 3)_

**"Fine then, Alfred-san. If you insist on going to Ivan-san's home, then I am going with you."**

Alfred sighed in exasperation, shifting his best '_I really don't give a fuck right now'_ death glare back to Kiku as he redialled Ivan's number after being disconnected for the third time, his face a mask of rage. Honestly, the last thing he needed at a time such as this was some "logical thinking" bastard following him around and being of no help to anyone, and besides, his attempts at preventing the inevitable were beginning to aggravate him to an almost unbearable extent.

"I TOLD YOU TO BACK OFF, DUDE! GET THE HELL OUTTA MY WAY!"

Feeding on his own animosity, Alfred found that he still possessed the inhuman strength needed to suddenly forcefully shove a surprised Kiku backwards in a quick and powerful movement, with no warning whatsoever, driving him and whoever else was yelling at him into the wall of the porch with a resounding smack as bodies collided with tiles and concrete that Alfred failed to hear, the younger nation's fist colliding with a jaw belonging to one person or another as he passed with no hesitation whatsoever, disappearing in seconds as he sprinted around the corner of the street without so much as a glance back.

He was running a marathon at a million miles an hour, feeling as though he was passing moving vehicles in a blur, racing against the speed of light, although nothing processed other than the cold, hard object in his hand and the image of his brother permanently plastered in the back of his mind, his temper rising to bursting point with every quick, fast paced step that he took, the fuel to spur himself on drained from every explosion of hatred, the bile welling up in his throat dripping down his reddened face, mingling with beads of sweat and yet he felt as though he wasn't moving fast enough. Why wasn't he there yet? What was happening to Mattie right now?

_What would he find when he finally arrived in Moscow?_

He was the only person still willing, and like hell he'd risk his country, his freedom, his _life_, to recover the fallen nation in one piece, before it was too late to do so.

Alfred's thoughts were scattered, possibilities, worries, sudden bursts of animosity, rage, memories in the forms of still images pounding at his head, physically assaulting his mind as he ran without much thought as to where he was going, how he'd get there, only his destination that was constantly at the centre of his thoughts, unyielding, unwilling to forget what truly mattered, his bones searing, muscles screaming with a pain that only spurred him on, unable to feel any more physical pain, other than the anguish, the mental torment, associating it to an agony that was not his own.

"TAXI!" He bellowed in a murderous intonation that turned heads that he couldn't process, subconsciously acknowledging that he could go no further without collapsing from exhaustion with a maddened spark in his widened ice-blue eyes, framed with brown-blonde hair that was plastered to his beetroot red forehead with his own bile and sweat. The taxi screeched to a halt and nearly continued at top speed down the road at the sight of the man standing before it, though was stopped as he leapt into the back seat, barking quick, hurried orders that seemed to come in the form of a random series of words, so fast that they slurred together.

**"WASHINGTON DC AIRPORT! AND STEP ON IT OR I SWEAR I'LL I'LLFUCKING SMASH YOUR BRAINS IN, OKAY DUDE? THINK I'M JOKING DO YOU? HELL, I'LL-"**

With no hesitation, mainly out of fear of the madman, the taxi driver slammed his foot on the pedal, increasing his speed as the latter's voice rose, slightly reddened eyes focused on absolutely nothing whatsoever, staring menacingly at the back of the seat as though it had deeply offended him, though not truly seeing anything. Hurtling through the streets, down the motorway, the thought of the current lack of police due to the disease was the only relief in the man's mind as he pushed the speed limit to the extent that he was sure that the car would crash in response to his passenger's relentless furious tirade that, frankly, sent shivers down his spine, and yet this was still not fast enough, and he found himself silently begging to whatever God was up there to allow him to live to see another day.

After five agonizing minutes that seemed like an age, the imposing whitewashed steel building of the world's oldest airport came into view, all but deserted. Few cars were parked outside, no children or adults milling around. The metal gates were all but shut and fear spiked in Alfred's stomach as the car door flew open, and he hurtled out of it as soon as the vehicle began to slow down, leaping out onto the pavement with surprising agility, racing up to the steel gates as though his life depended on it, ignoring his weakened state and collided with the gates in a vain attempt to smash them open, apparently not processing the fact that they were locked tight, as he would've known if he'd listened to his boss mere hours previously.

"HEY!" He virtually screamed, his voice echoing down the emptiness and at that moment he had another clutch of fear, though frustration was quickly overcoming the emotion.

"OPEN UP!"

Ignoring the sudden sickness that washed over him again, the mobile phone was held to his ear in an instant, barely allowing it to ring before answering it, although nearly hung up as soon as he realised who it was, pausing momentarily before preparing for another round of painful and pointless attacks on the gates.

"_Al, you bloody idiot. Where the hell are you?" _

He responded, although what was said he had no clue. Alfred merely continued his vain attempts to bombard the steel reinforced gates, using his body as a battering ram with no effect whatsoever, other than causing bile to rise up in his throat, although he didn't notice, didn't process what he was saying or doing at that time, his thoughts already too far away to comprehend anything, and nothing that Arthur said or did could change that. Nothing that anybody would say, no matter how logical their claims may be, could change his opinion in this situation, especially when the life of his brother hung in the balance.

Minutes, possibly hours passed and despite his bloodied, bruised state he continued his worthless efforts, eyes wide, tinged red with tiredness, hot tears streaming down his pained face, throat hoarse from relentless shouting, and still he persevered, despite the fact that, in the oncoming darkness, it was becoming increasingly difficult to see his surroundings, every visible shadow beyond the fence only encouraging him to pound harder against the steel gates, to scream all the louder in vain desperation that a single light would flicker in any part of the collection of buildings that stood beyond the gates, silently mocking his feeble attempts, barely acknowledging the approach of the other before he noted the fact that he was being forced backwards, and despite his efforts he found himself unable to break free from his new-found restraints, shouting as loud as his now sore throat would allow him as his arms were pinned to his sides by what he barely noticed to be several people, a series of harsh coughs racking his severely weakened body, ignoring the various remarks from those around him, no longer completely aware of his surroundings.

* * *

><p>Pff. 's not that great. But the next chapter's gonna be awesome. I promise. This was just a boring thing that I made myself write for the story to continue and make sense. Just for the record, we now have a severely weakened Ludwig, Gilby, Liz and Roddy alone near Russia. The rest of the countries around Russia are either one with him, too ill to do anything worthwhile or in America. Just saying. ^^<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

_Date: January 3rd, 3001  
>Time: 1:24PM<br>Location: Moscow, Russian Federation, Ivan's House_

_**Dreaming**__  
>I was only <em>_**dreaming**__  
>Of <em>_**another**__ place in __**time**__  
>Where my <em>_**family's**__ from._

_**Singing**__  
>I can hear them <em>_**singing**__  
>When the rain had <em>_**washed away**__  
>All these <em>_**scattered dreams**__  
><em>

_**Dying**__  
>Everyone's <em>_**reminded**__  
><em>_**Hearts**__ are washed in__** misery**__  
>Drenched in <em>_**gasoline**_

_**Laughter**__  
>There is no more <em>_**laughter**__  
>Songs of <em>_**yesterday**__  
>Now live in the <em>_**underground**_

_-Before the Lobotomy, Green Day_

Matthew was cold. So cold.

Of course, it wasn't that he was unaccustomed to the cold; the winters in his home could be brutal. No, this cold was different. It was a heavy, crisp, biting cold that you felt in your bones and left your eyes stinging and rimmed with red. All around him was grey unfeeling concrete, industrial and frigid, stained with dark blotches from years, possibly even centuries previously, all that remained of the last victim. He could feel his people's suffering with every chill that shuddered down his spine, every jolt of pain that surged through his muscles, at times causing him to writhe in agony, leaning against the freezing, rusted but no less effective chains that held him fast to the wall, biting into his wrists as his head pounded with memories of countless blows, countless angry scars, his vision blank, forever unseeing.

Every fibre of his being ached to run free, for his people, and to end their relentless suffering that was slowly killing him. He could feel them, could hear their screams echoing in his ears as he heaved dryly on the cold grey floor, nothing in his stomach to come out, only the sour taste of bile that stung in the back of his throat. Beside him was the soft, clinking of metal, and Matthew looked again at the chains holding him to bolts in the floor, chained like a dog.

No, worse than a dog.

At least they had some semblance of dignity, they were allowed out for walks and exercise, and they were _fed. _Matthew was less than a dog, because he would _die_ here, alone in the cold, at the hands of a merciless tyrant who entered what he assumed long ago was the basement, what with the trickling of drops of water echoing throughout the empty room, leaving pain and hopelessness in his wake.

The worst part was that he couldn't even be sure that anyone would remember to come for him.

A raw sob wracked its way through Matthew's entire body before catching short on a splattering cough. More blood to add to what Ivan lightly called his _masterpiece._ Great. He shifted, pausing to wince as his dislocated shoulder twinged. He didn't even have the energy to pop it back into place. So far of his injuries Matthew had counted two broken ribs, a fractured tibia, a dislocated shoulder and quite a few broken, possibly frostbitten, toes. He was quite certain that his nose was broken as well, and his back would never fully heal the same after the cuts Ivan had a merry old time inflicting upon it, creating a countless number of new cuts and scars upon the old, barely healed ones, leaving his shirt and back in a bloodied mess. He wheezed as he shifted to the small metal dish of water set not far away from his bit of the floor, straining to peer into it.

Frozen again.

He leaned down to try anyway, his raw throat suddenly searing with a longing pain, only to freeze as he heard the familiar clunk of leather on metal as the heavy door was prised open, the familiar sound of heavy boots descending the steps, echoing throughout the empty room as they approached.

"Matvey is feeling well, da?"

Oh God, oh God, _no. _ Not him again, not so soon. He'd only just left an hour ago? Two hours? It was impossible to keep track of time here. Matthew whined, knowing that speaking anything other than "I surrender" would earn him more pain. He felt Ivan crouch down to his left, and refused to look at him, casting him eyes downward. He would not give him the satisfaction.

"You are feeling well? It would be a very nice thing for you to answer when you are spoken to Matvey ~" There was no mistaking the hidden threat beneath the otherwise jovial tone, and with a pained gasp, he noted a huge gloved hand grasping his chin, forcing it upwards, so that he had no choice but to stare, though not truly seeing, into those cold, violet eyes.

"Y-yes..."

Here it was, and he could practically _feel_ the smile. "That's too bad."

* * *

><p>To think, when the Russian scientists had come to him with the chemical that would officially change the course of history, he had at first been hesitant and though that feeling hadn't lasted long he had seen it as a possibility. A possibility that he hadn't seen since 1990 when the Cold War ended and he was no longer the USSR. It was a possibility for him to be literally on top of the world. <em>Speaking of, <em>he thought to himself as he smiled ominously into the unwilling, near-broken face of his captive, he had yet to decide the fate of the forgotten nation. It would be most entertaining to watch his reaction to a few more of those 'games' that Ivan thoroughly enjoyed inflicting upon innocent people, although most would probably overreact and call them 'unethical' or 'horrific,' which, in his honest opinion, was a great shame. They didn't know what they were missing.

Although on the other hand, he could just as easily end what sorry excuse for a life that remained in that semi-broken body of his, or better yet, he could use his suffering to his advantage somehow. He had the feeling that dear Matvey could be a vital tool to claim the ultimate prize that would otherwise be the hardest to gain, but by far the most profitable. That one possibility had been lingering in the back of his mind since he first set his plan into action, and although the long-term effects would impact the entire world with one quick blow, it wouldn't come willingly, that much went without saying. But then, it was true that once you remove the monarch, the nation eventually crumpled until there was simply nothing left but memories and ruins. Could the same be said for something on a much larger scale?

"That's too bad." He repeated, almost to himself, his porcelain face inches from the bloodied, bruised face of his victim, his expression blank, devoid of emotion. Clearly, he wasn't in the mood to repeat the events of the previous day, which was disappointing. Seeing him attempt to fight back in his current state, desperation etched into every crevice of his face, and of course Ivan had restrained him and launched a blow to his temple with little or no effort, whereas Matvey had become limp in his bonds, a series of coughs raging through his system, and he'd left him taking sharp, shuddering intakes of breath as though each one took more energy to take than the last. This guy was almost as hilarious as Gilbert had been, all those years ago.

"No wonder your brother overshadows you," Ivan mused, firmly gripping the other's neck, a thumb and forefinger digging into his throat with more force as he spoke, ignoring the splutters and feeble attempts to resist. "It is easy to forget somebody who exists only as the weakest link in the chain, da? Easy to forget somebody who would die with no resistance...

"Just

Like

That."

His grip tightened with each word, until Matthew's eyes began to bulge, and his lips rimmed with blue, when he abruptly released hid hold, allowing him to fall to the ground, the side of his face smacking the concrete with a resounding thump, managing little more than a small groan as he collided, once again limp in his chains, the very same that had held a young Preuβen for years, and he too had been driven to the verge of death, which had been most entertaining, and the Russian couldn't suppress a smile that would've sent the fiercest of warriors running in the opposite direction, at the thought of such a fond memory. That was all that it was now, a memory.

As the thought of torturing him further, weakening his helpless captive with carefully chosen words crossed his mind, the steel door was prised open once again, although the person who emerged from the gloom seemed more panicked than Ivan had been, breathing in hurried rasps as though he'd (or she'd) been running from something, and speaking in a rush, making them almost incoherent despite their loudness, though mainly due to the fact that their speech was muffled by sobs.

"IVAANNN! We're under attack, Little Brother! I don't-"

It wasn't surprising that something like this had worked so well. At least, that was how Ivan was viewing things. It didn't take much to bring other nations to their knees, especially since the others had disposed of their nuclear weaponry less than a century before, after the British and American attack on India had left the entire country in ruin.

Had it really been 'for the greater good?'

It was just finding a way around this fact and having a president who wouldn't mind going with his plans for the rest of the world. If he really thought about it, things weren't quite going exactly as planned. His home had a bit more of a gloomy tone to it nowadays, although it wasn't much different to how it usually was. And he certainly hadn't expected the Rebellion to launch several feeble yet somehow slightly effective attacks upon his homeland, bombing St. Petersburg as they had done on several occasions, despite their strength, or rather, lack thereof, after negotiations had failed once again between the two sides. If Alfred was honestly attacking him with everything he had, he clearly didn't value his brother's life as much as Ivan had originally thought.

"What a shame." He muttered almost to himself, his eerily calm tones completely lacking in any form of sincerity, only a slight hint of pity noticeable as he spoke, turning slowly to face the panicked, tear-streaked face of his elder sister, basking in the moment, a small smile spreading across his cold, pale features.

"You know what to do, Katyusha, da?"

* * *

><p>AN: Aaaand we're back to the good stuff. I'm updating this regularly now, if you guys are still out there? If you're reading this, please leave a review, dudes! It kills my muse to think that nobody's interested in BOWR.. But yeah, I'm enjoying this, and trust me. It's gonna be good.<p> 


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